I heard a step outside my window, and smelt a whiff of scented tobacco
I thought at first that it was my imagination or the work of spirits or
Hallucination I stopped to think, afraid of what I may see
It may be a fairy- Ah or the silent stealthy kitty knocking something
But then I slowly moved the curtain again I heard the sound I
was certain. And then I saw him, it was a man slightly bald and thin in
physique holding the staircase railing with fear, waiting to gather his
weak strength;step by step holding the stick, tightly silently showing a
phase of life in the age,of loneliness and infirmity,helplessness sympathy
and pity, another step, another clang, another year, another question,
would he be alive , the next moment what if he falls?
why is he alone what figure of skin and bone, of breath and breath ,
of body of stone,what thoughts in the mind cold ,what step or steps so
bold, what the heart may hold Or what the heart may seek?
Can one call or feel,or wait-or walk so straight, up the stairs or down
like the two pointed ladder and all the apple picking, Has he done the
barrel filling? He stepped down the last and I stepped back, why did I see
him every day on this track? I waited for a while but the sound did not
come,Why life is silently lonely for some? I looked around, I too was
alone-Time ticked, second by second. No one was with me and I thought
Maybe soon I would too be,a thin physique of skin and bone maybe alone ,
maybe not,maybe alone? Lonely or not?
With these thoughts I made a final decision
I would never ever complain about the stairs in the house again.