A Fragile String
A
Fragile String
Sitting in
an outdoor café
my fingers wrapped around a cup of coffee.
The birds singing their favourite song,
the plants dancing at the rhythm of it.
The breeze roaring like it's escaped her house for a while long,
the cats meowing as their whiskers are tickled by the sudden rush of it.
The people whispering into each other's ears,
the lovers laughing through their tears.
The place seems a decade old,
generations of people coming in,
and some stopping by.
My coffee is really cold now,
just like the heart of that man who is yelling at a little girl,
as she squirms and controls the urge to burst into tears.
The
leaves falling at a pace
that makes it all seem like a place
with no worries,
with no hurries.
With no tug of wars,
with no dried up shores.
With no one dying,
with no one crying.
With nobody fighting for their basic human rights,
with nobody living in a constant state of fright.
It all brings me to the now and makes me realise that
the world can never be peaceful as a café,
you can be at peace and sit there sipping your coffee.
But, the world will never be,
what you dream of it to be.
We can bask in the array of peace,
but we can't hold onto that string for too long.
Because the string is too fragile
and we are known for being selfish.
-Some Fries, Some Poetry
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