You wanted a book dedicated to you, my dear. I could write many a story of you and me, words and silence, music and love, rain and summer.
You are a sacred space that I have never left; a home that keeps me grounded to the world of dreams, though some are lost and some found again. For I’m like the proverbial woman who lost a valuable coin and has found it again after thorough searching.
You have a bowl full of colours that fetch you happiness every day; while I keep mine clean and empty for an impulsive act of alms from you. Someday, you might give me a little from the lot you have, just to keep me from starving.
The clouds still heave and burst into tears, every now and then. Years have gone by; still you are special, by the way you brought back music to me; for I’d never forget that one day, when you made me understand that I had forgotten how to sing.
Every day, from dawn to dusk, your name is like a talisman that I keep safe from the world, till words form one by one and fill these blank pages.