It was near a green hillock, in the valley; I saw a tiny brook oozing out down to touch a stream. it was flowing westwards deep into the sea. I saw the smooth round pebbles reposing to the music made by the gushing water. I saw a few white pebbles untouched by the glory of sunlight glitter at my sight. I could feel their warmth, bliss and shine, hooking its sharp wedge onto my eyes. I knew it would be a gift worth to speak my love.
I knelt down to the brook, cupped in my hands a tiny part of it, and splashed it onto my dreary face. The sleepy me was revitalised. Somewhere far, I heard cacophony of some unknown birds. Above me it was various thick green hues’s and textures of spread out leaves. I saw my shuddering reflection surrealistically staring at me. But my eyes were searching the pebbles, which I would gift to my lover. Wouldn't be she a lucky soul, lucky enough to hear my heartbeats inside a tiny little stone?
I saw the white shiny-curvy stones faintly through the growing ripples. As caught in a chilly mist inside the flowing water they seemed liked a bunch of fledgling’s waiting for their mother bird’s broad warmer wings. They were mirthless and feeble. All sorts of images went pass through by my mind. But I was eager to pick one pebble only to gift her, her childhood innocence, which made the white pebbles more precious than any great diamonds chiselled.
Feeling the chillness of the flowing icy water, I touched them. I felt the roundness; smoothness and the inheritance of unrequited love which they were unable to unwind to the flowing stream, caressing them for ages. I knew they were big boulders before. I could sense the transition; an electrifying spark was entering my veins. I was blessed by them; 'the sacred white pebbles'. How lucky would be my girl when she’ll hold this tiny sand-sphere of love in her timid hands? I’m sure her eyes will learn how to wear a smile, how not to drop no tears; and to understand love much beyond the grin of a pretty face.
I picked a stone to gift, but I placed it back.
.
I knelt down to the brook, cupped in my hands a tiny part of it, and splashed it onto my dreary face. The sleepy me was revitalised. Somewhere far, I heard cacophony of some unknown birds. Above me it was various thick green hues’s and textures of spread out leaves. I saw my shuddering reflection surrealistically staring at me. But my eyes were searching the pebbles, which I would gift to my lover. Wouldn't be she a lucky soul, lucky enough to hear my heartbeats inside a tiny little stone?
I saw the white shiny-curvy stones faintly through the growing ripples. As caught in a chilly mist inside the flowing water they seemed liked a bunch of fledgling’s waiting for their mother bird’s broad warmer wings. They were mirthless and feeble. All sorts of images went pass through by my mind. But I was eager to pick one pebble only to gift her, her childhood innocence, which made the white pebbles more precious than any great diamonds chiselled.
Feeling the chillness of the flowing icy water, I touched them. I felt the roundness; smoothness and the inheritance of unrequited love which they were unable to unwind to the flowing stream, caressing them for ages. I knew they were big boulders before. I could sense the transition; an electrifying spark was entering my veins. I was blessed by them; 'the sacred white pebbles'. How lucky would be my girl when she’ll hold this tiny sand-sphere of love in her timid hands? I’m sure her eyes will learn how to wear a smile, how not to drop no tears; and to understand love much beyond the grin of a pretty face.
I picked a stone to gift, but I placed it back.
.
