Every single day, I was sitting in the corner under the tree – protected from the harshness of the Sun, the stares of Man and thorny ground below. I was waiting for the days to end, nights to fall, life to go on. One of those days you came along like a breath of fresh air bringing the whiffs of flowers and scents of freshly baked cookies. I was wary. You said you only wanted to talk to me. You were sad. You wanted company. I was sadder. I know what you felt. You told me about tales of long lost men and those voyages of the seas, the lands in faraway places and the Heavens where Gods can be. You aroused in me the desire to live, the want to know, the need to talk. I hesitated, stuttered, stammered, paused and then there was no stopping me. I was bubbling with newer energy each day I saw you. I waited for the nights to end and days to come now. One day you didn’t come. I waited all day long. There were no flowers to smell around me. The second day you didn’t come, I ventured from under my tree. I couldn’t see you all day. The third day you didn’t come again. My heart broke when I saw you laughing down the street, playing with people whom I had heard about. You forgot about me when I couldn’t stop thinking about you.
I went back to my corner under the tree – protected from the harshness of the Sun, the stares of Man and thorny ground below but with a heart split open to bleed. Again.