PROSE AND POETRY

How They Met

I saw Music in one of the busy streets in our town. In the tapping of the feet of the people who cross the roads. In the bells ringing on the hand of an ice cream vendor. In the blind old man playing his flute. In the cars and cabs with their engines through the tempo of the stop’s and go’s. In the tweets of the birds on a tree that sways with the hush of the afternoon breeze. Music loves to befriend them but somehow, Music was lonesome.

Music has his leisure walk on the keys of the piano, lingers for a while in the strings of a guitar and then at the tip of the drumsticks on one of the parades in our suburban. But still, Music felt something’s missing.

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