GloMag GloMagMay2019 - Page 77

You take me back to old family albums, slowly catching a yellowish tinge with age, where happy faces were captured smiling on a breezy afternoon by the shore, unbothered by their rain-soaked belongings. Some of them aren’t with us anymore. They only reside in photographs that I have tried sniffing sometimes. Maybe, they still retain the smell of the salty air in them. I have often woken up, alone, to find you lashing at the panes on cold winter nights. I could sense your determination from the sweeping trees that had finally got the better of the guy's umbrella, made him give up and run back home instead. Giving up was always the easier option. But as I said, there is a certain beauty in the tiniest of your instances. Be it the raindrops from the clouds or broken waterfalls from my eyes, I have seen both dry up in the mildest of sunshine. 77