Skip to main content

#8


And she said looking into his eyes," Well, You see,the things that I love will always be my favourite, whether it's a song,or person or movie or emotion or word, it will always be my favourite thing no matter what they do to me. Here take my word,I will always love them as long as I'm alive." "Oh, so I wonder whether you love yourself ?", he asked with a smile. She continued to look into his eyes and said, "Now that I think of it , yeah, I do .But I didn't. I don't know but something prevented me from loving myself. But now I can say this to you as I assured I love me and I will always be my favourite no matter what my fate turns out to be.The past , present or future , it doesn't matter me anymore. All that I know is l'm my favourite and I love the things that I love , afterall it's the thing called love that holds all of us together." She bid him bye and left the corridor where he stood still looking at, as she walked away.

A.C

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

THE DREAMCATCHER ( A Poem)

She tried. And made the hoops from willows to wove those magical webs. Wrapped the hoop with suede lacing. The string was woven onto the hoop. Hours passed. She wove some of her favourite decorations to it. Feathers and gemstones, hidden with meanings. Hours passed. But she wanted it  to be perfect. And finally, here it is. THE DREAMCATCHER. She hung it on  her bedroom wall and watched it carefully. Rubbed it with an artist's pride. The hoop smiled, ensuring the travel of sun through the mighty sky. She thought that when night comes  the hole in the center would only let Bawedjige( good dreams)pass. She would be able to sleep safe and sound today. The nightmares will never ever haunt her. For she has her Dreamcatcher. And Bawedjigewin( bad dreams) will be trapped in the web, to be dispelled at the first light of morning. She slept. The sun rays pierced into her eyes. She opened her eyes with the innocence of a newborn babe. The thought stroke...
2 comments
Read more

#17

Everytime there came a music from the old devastated house on the hilltop.It wasn't jazz or melody or rap or opera. It sounded the broken soul. The long lost soul set to dwindle and shrink in solitude.Sewed into melancholy and dresssed in rhapsody,the hilltop triumphed over the hurricane of that season.And the music from the house gradually faded away,to welcome the next season. A.C 
Post a Comment
Read more

Recognition

'Happy Women's Day ' Those three words transformed her. It changed her imperfections into Perfections. It fastened her daily Chores. It gifted a smile to her Face. It motivated her Spirits. It gave rhythm to her Heartbeats. It made her Hairs dance. It increased the sweetness of her Lullaby. It brought back the glitters in her Eyes. It was the recognition from her Husband. A.C
Post a Comment
Read more