Sitting on damp green grass, surrounded by loneliness, i am being tied in with a solitary apple tree on top of a windy hill. The branches are all covered with half ripe apples, half green and half yellow. I shelter myself under the apple tree from the soft gentle drizzles that slowly draw closer from above. I look over and i see white clouds floating like cotton wool on a blue sheet of cloth. Crossways in front of me from where i sit, the ocean sings a melodious rhythm continuously. My eyes are hook on the green leaves, trap on the branches and fruits, wet with rain. How long until the fruits turn red, ripe and ready to be pluck? Will my endurance last? How long will it be before i have to leave this apple tree with a basketful of delightful apples? Or will i go back empty handedly, out of my compassion not to hurt the branches nor the tree or simply myself. And will i pluck the right apple? I sit still.
Every week and every month, i missed you. I care for you. But i couldn’t say it, it seems to me it is not worth for you anymore. Not worth at all.
At this very moment i know, i am being bound to you. Forever.
No comments:
Post a Comment