What happened to the life here?Scattered in the winds,is the smell of breath,and rising in the east,is the golden sun.Picnic seats empty,yet hope prevails as sunshine.Music plays endless-soothing the gasping soul.Nature swings hence and forth,still none takes notice.Why am...

Image by�Maria Victoria Rodriguez

What happened to the life here?
Scattered in the winds,
is the smell of breath,
and rising in the east,
is the golden sun.
Picnic seats empty,
yet hope prevails as sunshine.
Music plays endless-
soothing the gasping soul.
Nature swings hence and forth,
still none takes notice.
Why am I here?
My life was pleasant ,
but not vibrant.
Maybe it was vibrant,
but not at all amusing.
Or was it amusing??
Surely not sparkling.
What do I see here?
The rolling pin and the wine bottle,
had a story unfolding- of love.
The lady who loved her wine and
the man who loved cooking for her.
Some sediments of love,
they must have left behind.
For the world to see,
love is normal in any forms.
Search for it and look for it.
But at the right place,
just where you left it.
Now I see, the world-
through the wine bottle,
through the ripe tomatoes,
through the pasta and the dough,
through the sunshine,
and the gentle wind.
I saw it all,
I swear- I see it even now.

(This picture appeared in Visual Verse � An Anthology of Art and Words as prompt for the July month. Could not submit on time, hence publishing here.)

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