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k-balachandranPoems
A feather, immaculately white, with a hint of black at the edge, incongruently shaped like a sword, was lying orphaned on the third step, as I descend.No one noticed it. Or, what is there so special, they would have thought. I stopped to pick it up, on an instinct, softness prompted, or perhaps a wish waiting there, far off in the dark corridor of mind, a need badly felt, while rubbing against, rough edged time; is it hope of a possible chance of a caress. With a smile I turn, serendipity starts its game then, at that moment one least expected it. No, I am wrong in saying that, that moment was indeed ripe, then only the meaning of the word gets justified.                          She was looking at me, standing on a step, arresting her ascent, transfixed, looking at the feather too, now and then, as if it is a quill immersed in liquid magic, I hold to write, something she would, spell out, in a moment.                                     "Tell me" I turn playful, sensing her mood in that glowing moment, so rare,we share, that has a hidden significance, I was certain. **"That's the feather I dreamt last night" she stutters. We feel the spell of serendipity, binding our hearts at that moment.**                                0O0
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May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 10:01 AM UTC
Serendipity
A feather, immaculately white, with a hint of black at the edge, incongruently shaped like a sword, was lying orphaned on the third step, as I descend.No one noticed it. Or, what is there so special, they would have thought. I stopped to pick it up, on an instinct, softness prompted, or perhaps a wish waiting there, far off in the dark corridor of mind, a need badly felt, while rubbing against, rough edged time; is it hope of a possible chance of a caress. With a smile I turn, serendipity starts its game then, at that moment one least expected it. No, I am wrong in saying that, that moment was indeed ripe, then only the meaning of the word gets justified.                          She was looking at me, standing on a step, arresting her ascent, transfixed, looking at the feather too, now and then, as if it is a quill immersed in liquid magic, I hold to write, something she would, spell out, in a moment.                                     "Tell me" I turn playful, sensing her mood in that glowing moment, so rare,we share, that has a hidden significance, I was certain. **"That's the feather I dreamt last night" she stutters. We feel the spell of serendipity, binding our hearts at that moment.**                                0O0
k-balachandran
Written by
k-balachandran
Indian
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 10:01 AM UTC
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