Tears of the River

A tale of a man's love for a river, forgotten and remembered when the river needs him, told in a manner which brings to life all that surrounds him and his love.

.
.
.
I had forgotten her; dear friendship does leave one with the traits of the other. We had not met for a long time. But now as the sun goes down, with deep sighs, on the western sky, I have an urge to meet her, fulfill a tryst that was never made. It is in the dusk that she must be met. She lives only after the sun is annealed beyond the reach of the eye. During the day, she hides behind the colourful shrouds, sequined with catamarans, bathing women, the occasional kingfisher and dancing sunlight. She hides from the prying eyes that try to see through the gaps in her clothing; she is a woman.

But in the night she sits there naked throwing aside even her last garment of shyness. She sits there singing songs in the night, songs that she had learnt in the morning. Songs of allure that tempt and draw troubled minds to her. Yes, my river is alive in the night.
.
.
.
.