A flower in my vase

It stood smiling fresh and young just the day before, alive and emiting joy for everyone. Now, its just another dry leaves waiting to be thrown in the trash bin. what a life, giving a smile and joy for so short yet as long as it lasts....you are no more but the memory lingers and still we feel the faint joy that you give so freely...

Lonesome Island

I sit here dreaming often of my yesteryears where the birds would sing and the flowers bloom in myriads of colors. I've lived in that land all thorough my lonely days, enjoying the joyful air even in the wintry period of my season. My happiness is imprisoned there, in that lonely island where I I am stuck till today. I yearn to go back to the land there where my soul lives. As I live in the midst of a rat race in full swing, I hear the gentle call of my soul deep within me. And I am transported time and again to that lonely island where my soul roams in bliss.

The smiling Cop.

He was known to me a couple of years back, young and bold, jolly and fun loving. He comes often to me for a talk and to seek some office essentials. I am glad to know him. He's quiet and firm but always in a jolly mood. Honorable cop, brave and different. Maybe they saw it too, they gave him the Top Cop Medal in the last Republic Day at the Capital along with some few good men. He came again the day before, smiling as usual, asking for petty things for his staffs. I said Yes. He left in a joyful mood.
Yesterday I came and sat in my office, a lonely staff came and informed that my dear friend had been shot and is fighting for his life at the hospital. A tragic news. All my hope and prayer for his recovery. Man like him make us free and safe to stand up and raise our heads in this bullet riddled land. I sure miss him and may God keep him safe.

A visit to the land where once the shepherd sings:

I am back to the spot where I once came before. The land where once the shepherd worked. She was there here. There, she worked tirelessly however weak or frail her tired body be. In that little hut she dwelled and that small church that You may mistaken for an abandoned house, she preached. She used to sing and fill the area with sweet praises, inspiring the people she knew. They all loved her. She was their shepherd. Gentle and loving.

But, she's in pain now, striken by unfamiliar malady. Nursing maid all around her. May the good Lord strengthen her limbs to walk again. I pray in this lonely place. I stand alone here, listening the songs she used to sing...it echoed deep within my heart. I am no shepherd, I am just a lost sheep in the wilderness!!