Tuning the wires
Down in the aisle between the mountains,
The white wind made trees whistle,
There was no one in sight,
Just a pigeon sheltering its squabs from the drizzle.
He woke up in the morning with a shiver,
Hazed but touched by the rays soon after,
In a state of déjà vu,
An intuition made his spine quiver.
Dressing in front of the mirror,
She swayed her hands at her reflection,
In a trance which set her foot to dance,
‘Just another day, then why the swivel of romance.’
White buildings, grey roads, yellow taxi honks rose,
Statues around were in a rush.
A slight fragrance carried by the breeze,
Just a sniff and that was the moment they froze.
Confused fools swung to and fro,
The mystery was yet behind the locked doors,
Anxious souls, struggling for questions,
Still not known.
The sun set to give way to the moon,
Days passed by like this slowly,
Eyes in search but beneath:
Shuttering down the windows of hope.
Winter, spring, summer, autumn,
But today was a season unknown,
The stranger in front with violin in hand,
She could hear the string hitting the right chord.