The Boy.

That boy, who?

Under the sun. Smoking the dying stubs of a cigarette. With aviators on. Striped shirts and loose linen pants. An air of calm bestowed upon his countenence. A composure derived from complacence. Of control over past clouds and future torrents. An effervenscence in his smile. Sly, as it were. It caught the passing glimpses passed at him. Beckoned them.

He walked down the yellow street. With dangling strings of his guitar. His hat twisted. His hair awry. His pace lazy. Coins jingling in his pocket as walked. Entered the blue walled town. Rustic in its appearance. Welcoming however. He walked down further. Passed vendors selling tribal beads. Passed artists painting the landscape of a drowing Sun. Passed the canal.

Reached the obscure little settlement. Brown tents laid with mud. Canopies of bougainvilleas weighing down at every nook. And met the little boy. Scrouging for coins in a torn pouch his mother gave. Called him a name, and brought him aside. Asked him what would he buy with those coins. Nothing, said the boy. I'll make music with it. Music, he thought to himself. Patted him and asked him to fetch him some ale. When the boy returned, he found none. But the guitar, and a few more coins. And a note that he could not decipher.

It read, 'Never doth the coin depart from thee. In you it foundeth solace. In you the ultimate of music.'

Story through the glass.

Through the glass window. Everything is calm and orderly. Everything crude is crushed. Everything beautiful is restored. In place, the greenery, the lights. In order, the food, the coffee mugs. In position, the woman and his man.

The glass window bestills all. Mutes the chaos that interrupts the art. The transparent veil on to the world.
It soothes with peace and traquility. It soothes the mind. 

What If ?

what if i tell you your dreams tonight? and enchant you with your own creations.

would you let me travel through them?

what if i sing the song you hum each night? and spread your wings in the whiff of air.

would you dance the dance of illusions?

what if we sat all day, under the glistening sunshade? and gorged on cheesecakes, and played on shadows the tree threw on the ground?

would you recall how our childhood passed by?

what if we gaze at stars all night? and marvel how they glitter.

would you distract me with ghost stories?

what if we splashed paints on white bedsheets? and pour the hues in the backyard lawns.

would you complain if i splash some color on you too?

what if i tell you my dreams then? and smile upon each of them.

would you travel through them with me?