Aug 2013
In the stillness of the night,
The lake was drinking the moon.
Though shattered, he was not crying,
His eyes just glistened with a mist.
She was his world and bereft her,
It meant nothing to live.
Slowly he got up,
And with a sweep of charcoal,
Wrote in bold on the shabby hoarding,
βI MISS YOU'.
Then he went into the water.
The lake was drinking the moon.
Though shattered, he was not crying,
His eyes just glistened with a mist.
She was his world and bereft her,
It meant nothing to live.
Slowly he got up,
And with a sweep of charcoal,
Wrote in bold on the shabby hoarding,
βI MISS YOU'.
Then he went into the water.
For the last many days, as I pass by the lakeside, I see a scribble on an abandoned hoarding that says I MISS YOU. Sometime back, I hear, a girl drowned in that lake.
