Hear. Hear me out, will you?
I have a question. Or two.

And she rolled over, without hesitation,
her face half buried in her pillow;
And motioned with a smile
like the cold morning wind
that blows through your clothes,
goosebumps and all, pure.
Go ahead, she said.

Why are we here?
Why are we truly here?

We’re here to make memories. It’s simple, she said.
Life isn’t as complicated as they say, you see.
We have days that are blue and red and green.
A dozen hues of gray and maybe a tinge of vermillion.
Like that mellow day on the beach, I watched you walk.
Out over the sand and your worries,
I looked at your silhouette. Your wind blown hair
and your svelte figure, walking. Waving back to me.
And I shut my eyes. I could still see you.
Light surrounded and glowing, walking back to me.
And it’s these little moments, darling,
that make up my little shards of memory.
This. Your words. Your Love. And you.

Okay, but what about this? John Green asks,
“What’s the point of being alive,
if we don’t atleast try to do something remarkable?”

Tell me about the days, she continued.
Tell me about the days you lay back and look at the stars.
And days when you hop through your dreams.
Days when you wonder, “when will I shine like that?”
And I’ll give you the clichéd answer, dear mine.
The answer is at the back of a book, literally and figuratively.
You’re separated by only a million words.
And you might have to swim through these million words.
or maybe even a million more.
But when you reach your dream, and you certainly will,
you will glow; Brighter than the stars.
For you will then be..
a million words wiser.

Those were the words she spilled at 5 in the morning.

Even with all my worldly possessions
and maybe even with help from the gods,
I could not have moulded her any better,
than she has moulded herself.




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