Dance, Dance, Dance
The lonely traveler was trudging up the hill, his breath becoming shallower with every step. He was surprising himself with his body's rebellion against the exertion that was his passion for as long as he could remember.
He stopped to breathe in the pristine air of the unadulterated hill-top. His curious eyes, running with naked feet across the vast expanse of the view of undulating mountains, crowned with proud junipers- hungry, as only the starving heart of a poet. His heartbeat spiking, he grinned in exhilaration, just as his gaze was captured by a girl, hardly a day over 12, dressed in red. Her hair was braided through a piece of silver jewellery, cradling her tiny head. Her eyes too honest, her face intensely happy, her small body covered in a too-big kaftan.
He called out a question, seeking her name. He received a grin and a movement of her hand, indicating she couldn't speak. He approached her and she stepped towards him warmly. His head bent to capture the sinews of a tiny drum, held tightly in her left hand. He was rewarded by the sound of a passionate tune, shattering and yet holding the serenity of the mountain wind, in the cradle of its cadence.
His face broke into a smile as she reached out her free hand, inviting him to match her jumping feet, dancing happily. He did.
He stopped to breathe in the pristine air of the unadulterated hill-top. His curious eyes, running with naked feet across the vast expanse of the view of undulating mountains, crowned with proud junipers- hungry, as only the starving heart of a poet. His heartbeat spiking, he grinned in exhilaration, just as his gaze was captured by a girl, hardly a day over 12, dressed in red. Her hair was braided through a piece of silver jewellery, cradling her tiny head. Her eyes too honest, her face intensely happy, her small body covered in a too-big kaftan.
He called out a question, seeking her name. He received a grin and a movement of her hand, indicating she couldn't speak. He approached her and she stepped towards him warmly. His head bent to capture the sinews of a tiny drum, held tightly in her left hand. He was rewarded by the sound of a passionate tune, shattering and yet holding the serenity of the mountain wind, in the cradle of its cadence.
His face broke into a smile as she reached out her free hand, inviting him to match her jumping feet, dancing happily. He did.
Comments
Post a Comment