Wednesday, November 23, 2011

My Lost Pigeon

Every evening, I spend some time in my veranda attending to the sweet echoes of nature. All the thing of beauty: the mountains, the streams, and the trees sing their finest tone for the loyal ears. Even the innocent mortals like birds exhibit some ideal human moral fiber, which is enthralling to watch and emotive to sense.  Now I feel that life is never perfect until you listen to the songs of nature. 

Autumn twilight presents the lively sight for the aspiring writers and visual artist. Even the meek and mild birds like pigeon flies out of their balmy nest to show homage to the descending beauty of mother of all nature – the sun.  

In the recent days, I was enjoying the cuteness of a lovely pigeon couple, who always saunter near me in the sundown. As if like a typical lover Romeio and Julet, the intensity of love and care that they share is beyond my mind's eye. Often lazy they spend a lot the day chilling out in trees and sharing the words from their heart, as if like they understand that love is never perfect until it is shared.  

Occasionally, they fool around like Tom and Jerry irritating each other. They press on, dart or scream and stay separately for some time, but they always come back together at the end. Seems like deep in their heart, they never wanted to lose each other. Until now, I never realized that the love that we witness is sometimes sweeter than the love that we experience. 

An hour before, I was out watching the heartrending sunset. The cold northern wind is strong enough to make the autumn leafs sing. The mountains are high as usual, and the streams flowing at a snail's pace. But the song of nature seems to be missing something today. Like never before, the rhythm of her every tune seems to be low down.

Most sorrowfully, one of my lovely pigeons – the cock has gone today. The hen was all alone, sitting forlornly on my windowsill. Her eyes are as red as a ground cherry, which visibly confirm that she shed a tear of blood for him. She was staring feebly to the available feathers of her love. The soreness in her heart is so perceptible and powerful to have me tearing up. I wish I can reprimand that pussy cat, which ruined the beautiful romance of blameless creature.    

Now, I will not visit my veranda any more. I don’t want to watch the sunset in the evening too, because it will only remind me of my lost lovely pigeon. Als! Sometimes, it is better not to recall our beautiful times. It only brings second loneliness in our heart. The song of nature is sweet, but its sorrow is bitterer.                

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