It was the softest wool that one could ever find...
Knitting day in and day out she wanted to make sure that the scarf would be ready before he left...
Mauve a color that would go perfectly with his marble fair complexion, she thought...
She would smile as she knitted...
The pattern was intricate and if she'd miss even one weave the design would break...
But she would never let that happen
She was focussed calm and at peace while she made her gift of love
She believed that like food, all things carry the energy of the creator...
Her knitting had rhythm her pose seemed meditative
Sometimes for nights she would knit...
In the knots of wool intertwined her dreams of anticipatory intermingling...
Of desires and fantasies of togetherness with the man she had connected with...
Her heart raced faster as the scarf headed towards completion...
With butterflies in stomach she visualised him wearing the mauve love...
Coy pleasant radiance enveloped her as she knit the last stitch...
Gasp gulp sigh chuckle all mixed up on her already lit face as she folded her gift...
It was early winter... A fond play of sun and cool breeze...
She had called him on the terrace...
Anxious and impatient with excitement her fingers drew hair off her face...
He came gently but she caught his scent...
His very own essence could never hide from her
She turned, ran to him, hugged him tight...
Made him close his eyes and wrapped him up in her surprise...
Tears in his eyes he kissed her
That was the only way he could show how he felt
Time slowed after he went...
She got the news of him reaching the base camp...
Her pride knew no bounds...
He was one of the few who was selected for the summit.
.
.
.
.
.
She holds the mauve scarf that he had hastily wrapped round a fellow climber to help him resurrect..
Today it would be a decade since he had gone to conquer the height of his only dream...
No trace no information no clue of his whereabouts...
Not even his body...
Just... The mauve scarf...
That saved a life...
The scarf
The color
The feel
The knitted texture...
Everything becomes moist today...
In his memory (not remembrance)
Because he is still not gone...
Very much there...
In her eyes... As a dream...
Unfulfilled...
#notsotinytale
- Prajakta Sathe.
Knitting day in and day out she wanted to make sure that the scarf would be ready before he left...
Mauve a color that would go perfectly with his marble fair complexion, she thought...
She would smile as she knitted...
The pattern was intricate and if she'd miss even one weave the design would break...
But she would never let that happen
She was focussed calm and at peace while she made her gift of love
She believed that like food, all things carry the energy of the creator...
Her knitting had rhythm her pose seemed meditative
Sometimes for nights she would knit...
In the knots of wool intertwined her dreams of anticipatory intermingling...
Of desires and fantasies of togetherness with the man she had connected with...
Her heart raced faster as the scarf headed towards completion...
With butterflies in stomach she visualised him wearing the mauve love...
Coy pleasant radiance enveloped her as she knit the last stitch...
Gasp gulp sigh chuckle all mixed up on her already lit face as she folded her gift...
It was early winter... A fond play of sun and cool breeze...
She had called him on the terrace...
Anxious and impatient with excitement her fingers drew hair off her face...
He came gently but she caught his scent...
His very own essence could never hide from her
She turned, ran to him, hugged him tight...
Made him close his eyes and wrapped him up in her surprise...
Tears in his eyes he kissed her
That was the only way he could show how he felt
Time slowed after he went...
She got the news of him reaching the base camp...
Her pride knew no bounds...
He was one of the few who was selected for the summit.
.
.
.
.
.
She holds the mauve scarf that he had hastily wrapped round a fellow climber to help him resurrect..
Today it would be a decade since he had gone to conquer the height of his only dream...
No trace no information no clue of his whereabouts...
Not even his body...
Just... The mauve scarf...
That saved a life...
The scarf
The color
The feel
The knitted texture...
Everything becomes moist today...
In his memory (not remembrance)
Because he is still not gone...
Very much there...
In her eyes... As a dream...
Unfulfilled...
#notsotinytale
- Prajakta Sathe.
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