July 25, 2009

The Whispering Woods

Still too dark to wake up for others
Dead silence waiting for dawn.
Lazy flowers, Getting ready to bloom;
None sleeps forever, Sleep ain’t any doom.
It’s too dark to wake up, for dawn and to bloom,
Still some sound evades this thought
The whispers of the woods

This is a tale of a lady. A great lady who died unknown
She had this huge pain, which she hadn’t ever shown
Twelve years back from now this sad moment had come
This wasn’t ever recalled again, not even once by her.
Secret slept silently somewhere low in her soul,
She didn’t think she would ever empty the bowl.

On April the fifteenth she waited for her grand daughter
She felt excited, happy and relaxed to see her after so long.
‘Granny I missed you, we weren’t together all along’
‘There was a promise Mary, and it was very strong.
As you know I was in the prison, for once I had stolen bread
Because you were so hungry and your hunger couldn’t wait’. - She said

Twelve years she had waited for this time to come
Went to the prison for Mary and made caretaker to a nun
All because of the promise to her BFF she had done
‘Dear Rita, The secret has never been told,
I know Mary was a kid just 4 years old.’- She thought

Child Mary while playing had pressed
The trigger of his late Pa’s gun
And as her grand ma died, orphaned Mary was everywhere shunned
But because of her promise to Rita, she raised Mary till now.
‘Mary’s grown up and I need to tell her somehow.
Then what about the promise, the secret, the oath?
But it’s related to Mary, it can’t be left to her unknown.’

‘If I live, I would tell; the day I die, the secret’d be gone.
Switched off the lamp and with the same thought she slept.
On the dawn of the terrified dusk, when the secret had been recalled
Life of Mrs. Skitter after 92 years had its ultimate fall.
She was buried inside, deep down the earth
So did the secret which had so much or no worth

What’s this sound? Which’s breaking the silence near her grave?
No one knows the secret, on her soul which was engraved.
Still there is some sound, and these are the woods.
Woods are whispering the secret
The secret which faded with her vision
Would the whispering woods ever be listened?