Sometimes I wish I could be a still lake. Recovering instantly after they throw stones at me. Swirling when the disowned leaves fall upon me; and coming back to who I’ve always been, very soon. Bearing the weight of their burden unload into me when they swim and yet become myself even as they glide through me. Running deep even though they fill their buckets with me for their tree houses; they will always find more of me when they keep coming back.

Sometimes I wish I were a still lake. I’d be one with deep black eyes and a stillness in which I’d see myself in me—always!


P.S: For someone who teaches me how beautiful calmness is. For someone I love immensely.