Withered dream

The road doesn’t seem to end. I am moving ahead and further more. The dividing wall on the middle of this path moves all along as my sole companion. It isn’t dark still though the evening is near. The street lights are lit in advance. Not that they were shut during the day!

As a set of crammed images moving in rotation in front of my eyes, I observe the people on the sidewalks. Tired faces waiting at the bus stop. A group of ladies cross the road at the zebra crossing. They must have been in a rush to go home out of this maddening crowd of vehicles. To meet their loved ones, spend moment of joy and call it a day.

At the red light, beggars trying to cry for a penny or two. An obstinate driver of a Mercedes closing the window of his car in sheer repugnance. On another window, a girl with a hand on the wheel trying to text a message with another. There is perfection in her multitasking. Her eyes focused on the traffic light signal to turn green. With a smile she leaves the next minute. Perhaps an - I love you from her beloved.

I move on with someone in my mind. The sky turns cloudy. There is some uninvited rain on my windscreen. I reach my destination drenched with thoughts, of the road gone past, and the one which lies ahead of me. I search my bookshelf to break apart. Yet no solace!

Perhaps in the vein of a withered dream I give up.