As they sat silently holding hands
sitting reclined against yesteryears’ memories
he in history of his lost youth’s forgotten tales
she in years spent in tasting life to grasp it’s full course
the boat they rode waded through dead silent shallow waters
weeds at the bottom felt close enough to be smelt
they saw the lone fisherman with his net flying high
to find final catch of the day
one last time for his own kitchen
as his wife with a sodden head gear waited by the fireside
smoke from their large laden dirty boat smarted her eyes
thought of her own lost home crossed her mind
where evenings never once were such serene so divine
where riches clicked heels yet order evaded all the time
such soulful patience on this island in the middle of this lake
she felt a pang of sickness inside her
in still waters of the lake she saw mountains with white caps
withering with every ripple their boat caused
she playfully threw her apple into it
and the train of ripples played havoc with those snow caped mountains
they all scattered around, merged and then again moved separately
he asked her to move closer their hands melted into one by then
her hair blew she flew she knew her moorings were here
she saw her sails being tied to these masts for the years to come
they stole sky from mountains for that very evening
darkness that day arrived with faith in her heart for her own life
fish caught in fisherman’s net were enough for a whole lifetime
they wandered through the night in warm waters of silent lake
she was the witness to their unspoken promises they did make
for the night that breathed and heaved with the bosom of the lake
was the night of her rising in love and being claimed.
