(5 min challenge let’s go)
It makes me sad to look over beyond the corridor
To see the raindrops fall seamlessly onto the ground
Where the baseline vanish under the blur of the shower
And a stray ball lies lonely at the centre of the court;
The thought of being over there is thrilling to no end:
To hear the ball come off the tension of the racket face,
To feel the repulsion of it neatly off a decent forehand
And to watch the ball fly across the net – cross-court;
With every ace scored and ball returned
The game gets better and the shots get stronger,
Driven by sheer passion and vast determination
Sets are won and lost where hearts are mended and spirits lifted;
The game goes beyond the court:
It runs with us and lives in us.
Love is still for the opponent.
The notes ring in the distance as the progression runs its course,
The bass sounds low and unwavering and allows the melody to stand out;
With every chord stirs a different feeling,
With every movement comes a different memory;
The music plays on long after the tears have dried up,
The sound of laughter has long ceased even as the resonance continues;
I pitch my ear closer to listen more intently,
Yet by and by the music fades into the night,
Soon it ceases into nothingness of silence and solitude;
Another night goes by.
I lift my weary head and direct my gaze outside the cafe – she walks by the window,
Her hips sashay casually and her black pleated skirt floats gently above her knees,
A plain peach-coloured crop-top wears itself smoothly over her well-endowed upper body,
Giving her a look of simplicity and ease yet offering a subtle sense of sophistication and chic;
It was all of five seconds in that beautiful encounter and then she was out of sight,
Yet for all that five seconds eternity seemed to have taken over and I was entirely lost in that moment,
It was as if time has stopped and the world stood still for me to just admire her as she walks by,
Forever a moment in time captured in the crystal recesses of my memory bank somewhere in my mind;
I went back to the same place many a time and tried looking out for her,
But never once by the window of that cafe did the girl again appear.
The phone lights up.
He knocks over the bottle lying close by at his fingertips and the subsequent rattle breaks the silence of the night.
‘I hope you’re having a good week. I miss you, see you soon yeah?’
He switches off the phone and stretches for the bottle, hoping to salvage whatever that is left in it, and however little that is of it.
He then reaches for his cigarettes and lights a stick up, allowing smoke to fill up and float down his throat with a deep breath before puffing out a thin formless cloud from his lightly parted lips.
He loves her. He desires her. He needs her. Yet. he doesn’t know how to make her his. He doesn’t want to know why he can’t have
her, or why he can’t bring himself to make her his.
*music plays softly in the background: ‘and if you leave, my pain will go, but that’s no good to me, girl I love you, yes I love you so bad’
The next moment his eyes open, daylight has broken.