Again a long day. A long day of thinking, missing, contemplating. A day of solitude, loneliness, inner travel. A day of being with self. But sans the blabber and fun games.
Again missing him. Again sitting by the window. Glancing through the pane ( and pain). Looking through things, but not through beings. Not through 'self'. Not blabbering or having fun.
The blank sheets lie in my front. I don't know what to write. Little do I know what to draw. My lifeless eyes flutter around the room. Trying to catch the light; the twinkle. By bits and pieces. Trying atleast to blabber and have fun games.
This vaccum seems never to cease or vanish. Again a block. 'Where to start from" I ponder. "What to do" I wonder. No answer. Unlike always. I recall the eager eyes awaiting me. My blabbering and our fun games. My childish demanding and his elderly fulfilling. But today's not the day.
Somehow I think my little angel too would be sitting by the window. Missing . My blabbering and our fun games.
But tomorrow will be the day. I will shake off my solitude, and will blabber. And we shall have our fun games.
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