for a girl named Peace: a haiku and a prose

A girl named Peace

He nearly passed her by. But something inside his heart prompted him to turn back and went over to look at this flower. She is a tiny insignificant thing presenting herself alone in the cold. She is the only flower in sight. There is a flaw on the outside of the petals. He would have walked by without glancing back.

Yet he turned his head and looked and then walked back to her. He looks at her from another angle and takes some shots. He keeps taking until he finds a perfect angle. Then he walks home.

He has not come this way for 1825 days. This time he comes for a break from the snow land for the warmer weather. This morning he decides to walk. And then he sees her.

She is beautiful from one angle. So is a woman in the snow land. She appears in his scene awhile ago. He has captured a perfect shot of her in the camera of his heart and stored the precious glimpse of her soul in his treasure chest.

It is just a morning in November and they have only met for two months. Someone says it is her birthday and he asks her whether she wants a meal or a present. He merely asks casually out of polite goodwill. She replies that she wants neither. She says a breakfast will do and she will provide her own tea. He can provide a cookie.

A day before that morning he walks to the pharmacy and buys her a Disney Pooh’s card on enjoying the little things in life and be someone’s reason to smile. He then decides to make her a proper gift. He googles and finds a picture of her holding her beloved dog (who has reached his full age and died a year before she comes to this land) and pastes it on a piece of A4 paper. Then he finds and pastes on it a Rudyard Kipling’s poem on “The Power of a Dog”, using human friendship (with a dog) to illustrate the inevitable sadness of parting after an investment of sentiment.

On her birthday she brews Starbucks coffee and butters a croissant for him. They sit across the breakfast table (in a house shared among three housemates) and he gives her the present. He says, “Be prepared to cry.” She cries. He never asks her why. He knows why.

Then a stormy relationship attempts to develop and they both crash at the take off runway.

Like this flower he finds by the roadside now there is a taint which is so glaring in one angle. Yet like this same flower there is a great beauty in her that more than covers whatever taint she has.

I will remember you. He says to the corner of his heart where he keeps his treasure of pictures of momentary glimpses of beauty. Will you remember me? He asks in silence.

Does remembrance really matter? He tries to remember all the women who had tried to love him before. But he could not reciprocate their passion, unlike the playing cards which he handles so well. Which card is his heart, spade or heart or diamond? Then he remembers the lyrics of a song, That’s not the shape of my heart.

She gets very upset when he doesn’t say he loves her. She wants him to say it. But he can’t. It is a life and death issue involved and that’s why he cannot say it to any woman. Can she not see in the sadness in his eyes?

Somewhere someone says, there is no greater love than this, laying down your life for the one you love. No, he does not know the size of his love, if any, and certainly not to the extent of laying down his life for someone, even a woman.

So here he is sauntering down a gentle sunny slope with a deck of new cards, and she, lost, two oceans away in the city of biography and reminiscence and childhood dream, none laying down their lives for one another.

He walks home slowly and sighs, “This flower is beautiful to behold, but there is a distinct flaw. ” Still he has decided to keep the two pictures, to remind him of this sunny morning and his encounter with this flower. “I love you. Come home.” He whispers in his heart to the girl named Peace. (To be continued)

a girl named Peace 2

a haiku for a girl named Peace

coffee croissant shared

thug life mug handled with care

ignore or beware

“#Cee’s Fun Foto Challenge, #CFFC

time travel haiku and back: just timing

sometime ago when in an interval story zone
long ago in another story zone

just timing my time

and yours to savor and chime

preparing our climb

This months photo challenge in square format from Becky is Time

a watery mirrored house of haiku (two versions)

mirror watery house unedited
mirror water houseswatery evening
my front yard’s sunset floating
daily abiding
I took this photo on 20151229 again in a hurry one evening in California. The place is a must see site because of its famous reflection of beautiful and colorful houses on water. The panoramic view did not turn out well as I was using an older Samsung then. But the static single shots were good. This one is my favorite. Will I want to live in one of these mirrored watery homes? My answer is, “No, thank you.” I still love my own little park with the trees mirroring my life as they stretch upward towards the blue sky where eagles soar.

a restaurant haiku

framed 3family outing
couples in love just dating
frame framed and framing
One day we went to this place for a brief break. It was a normal day with families and couples around taking their normal meals. I found the framed ceiling structure interesting for no particular reason and took some random photos. I remember we went at night but the photos now seem to show otherwise. Puzzling. Like life.

Love’s riddle: a haiku

a complicated timecomplex paradox
enigma unsolvable
find the little fox
She is back. He is back. They are not relatives. But the two humans are not together. And yet they love each other.
It is like looking at this photo. You never know whether the photographer is climbing up the mountain or going down the slope. There is no clue. Perhaps you can detect the lonely depression induced by the season from thin trees with bare branches, the snow covered plants shaped like little animals scurrying on the ground, against a grey bland sky and the an overall mood of foreboding of the scene. But you will not know why the photographer went there and took this picture unless you were him. When he took this picture he was actually climbing uphill. It was mid-January.
They did not meet that time. She was too far away and otherwise engaged. He went alone and spent his winter like a lone wolf.
Now they are both back to one place. Same city. Same street. Same house. He is alone. She is alone. He is not married. Neither is she. They love each other. But they are not together. Why are they not together? A complicated riddle.
No clue.

(I decided to post this blog after leaving the unfinished draft for a month or more. The shape of a lone wolf is too striking to be ignored. Other shapes of animals too. I like seeing living things in shapes formed by nature. I also added a little riddle here to ponder upon on sleepless nights.)