I see the waiters walking here and there. People, they appear and disappear. I watch them talk and see their faces brimming with joy. My own coffee sits in front of me, untouched. I put down the pen and reach for it. I sip the coffee for a little while and put it back on the table. Then I go back to seeing, hearing and observing closely everything around me.
I am new, my mind echoed. I am new to the place surrounding me fondly. The people, all of them are absolute strangers. They are now painting their faces to my mind for the first time. I would forget, I know that. Memories are made in almost every moment but only some stay in the heart forever. Those are the special ones. The unforgettable ones.
I remember days when I was truly happy from my past. Days when I have tasted freedom and the kind heart of others. I walked down the memory lane and people from my past appeared. My childhood friends, neighbours and others who had touched my life in unknown ways. I remembered my days with each one of them and a tentative smile bloomed on my lips. I heard their words and conversations from long ago, humming on my lonesome heart. My heart fluttered alive and then suddenly the smile vanished as I was pulled back by reality. I came back to the coffee shop where I sat down at the corner table. All alone with a half finished coffee cup in front of me.
I watch from a distance Their smiles, laughs and pain It was a party for a reason From ashes it was made Deaf are some people The others dance in rage Joy played on a good stage But from heart it never came
Voices played on my heart I would never be the same Eyes glanced at my way Gesturing me to play
I smiled as if I enjoy Singing in their stage My heart ridden of any joys The end was so away
A watch I held in my hand Counting at the time Minutes turned to hours Like counting over one dime
The end did came at last I felt so free and saved From parties made from ashes And fiends waiting for a play
I watch from my bedroom window. The neverending roads below stare back at me with open arms. I counted the people below with my fingers. One, two and three. They left their footprints with the hundred that have been printed there before them. I tried to see their faces, but failed mercilessly. I guessed that one of them was a child, and the tall woman walking beside him was his mother. They disappeared from the sight of my eyes as quickly as they came. I pondered over the fact that I may or may not see them ever again.
The low creaking of a gate opening, pulled my eyes to the house opposite my own. My neighbor appeared through the gate, and he too, started walking through the road. He stopped under the streetlamp and sat down on the chair under it. His eyes wandered through the pages of a book.
I stared above over at the sky. The evening had already turned to the early stages of the night. I pulled my curtains over my window, my mind still thinking about the quietness of the night and the unpredictability of the journey called life.