Sweet Disposition
I really thought I titled a post like that already but I guess not.
Today is Thursday, an hour left until Friday.
I purposely want to be alone yet I feel lonely.
It's too late now for me to seek companionship so I have turned to my blog, my old friend, my confidant, my salt and my pepper.
Let me tell you all a story...
Once upon a time, a seed was planted in the sand. And although no one expected it to happen, A mango tree grew, right by the sea. It bore fruit as succulent as the last lips you will kiss before you die. The branches, thick and sturdy, stretched over roaring waters. The sea was so angry at the mango tree. The sea was angry because it was jealous. Every day for the past 8 years, a young lady would come to the sea to admire the way the sun and moon glistened upon its surface and the way the waves danced upon the shore and teased her toes. She loved the sea and the sea loved her back. She couldn't swim. She would walk towards the water and watch how the waves parted and enveloped her, but never touched her. She would stand in her bubble and sing as she watched shells, bubbles and fish float by.
After 8 years of calm, the waves became choppy. Because after 8 years of admiration, the young lady had found a new treasure. A treasure which she planted and nurtured and adored. Mangoes would fall into the sea and sink to the bottom, never to be seen again. The girl would climb the tree and take naps in the shade. She trusted the strength of its branches. She built a swing of white rope and white board. From the sand, to the tree, to the swing and back and forth and back and forth at day and night at week and end.
She swung in the sea breeze like a ripe fruit. It's time, thought the tree, to release another weight and bare some new fruit. She trusted the tree but he let her fall. The plummet was graceful. The waters hugged her both inside and out. She became one with the sea for all eternity.
Still there is a tree on the sand
Still there is a swing over calm blue
The silence is the sweetest melody.
A picture of sweet disposition.
Today is Thursday, an hour left until Friday.
I purposely want to be alone yet I feel lonely.
It's too late now for me to seek companionship so I have turned to my blog, my old friend, my confidant, my salt and my pepper.
Let me tell you all a story...
Once upon a time, a seed was planted in the sand. And although no one expected it to happen, A mango tree grew, right by the sea. It bore fruit as succulent as the last lips you will kiss before you die. The branches, thick and sturdy, stretched over roaring waters. The sea was so angry at the mango tree. The sea was angry because it was jealous. Every day for the past 8 years, a young lady would come to the sea to admire the way the sun and moon glistened upon its surface and the way the waves danced upon the shore and teased her toes. She loved the sea and the sea loved her back. She couldn't swim. She would walk towards the water and watch how the waves parted and enveloped her, but never touched her. She would stand in her bubble and sing as she watched shells, bubbles and fish float by.
After 8 years of calm, the waves became choppy. Because after 8 years of admiration, the young lady had found a new treasure. A treasure which she planted and nurtured and adored. Mangoes would fall into the sea and sink to the bottom, never to be seen again. The girl would climb the tree and take naps in the shade. She trusted the strength of its branches. She built a swing of white rope and white board. From the sand, to the tree, to the swing and back and forth and back and forth at day and night at week and end.
She swung in the sea breeze like a ripe fruit. It's time, thought the tree, to release another weight and bare some new fruit. She trusted the tree but he let her fall. The plummet was graceful. The waters hugged her both inside and out. She became one with the sea for all eternity.
Still there is a tree on the sand
Still there is a swing over calm blue
The silence is the sweetest melody.
A picture of sweet disposition.
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