Aleena...

Aleena… that’s all I remember… I’m turning 39 this December… all I wish is nothing but her to pick a card along with those floras to visit me… for one last time... I know not if the trumpet that you hear may reach me the next dawn…that beautiful dawn…

Long lonesome street and shaded lamps flicker, flicker around me to show the way, to reach the place where I’m all lost in the fog. Aleena stood far away from the crowd, so absurd yet dazzling… They said real people get to know each other whilst exchanging a word through their eyes… Eyes… Aren’t they the soul, mind and life? Eyes… All eyes on my eyes and I stare at her like a man dreaming in his dream… Ah, uh, okay…

Let the word reach her whilst I pass on this message to convey that I’m on my way… to reach and to play the trumpet for you…

To know her is as simple as to know ‘white’… Peace, destiny and calmness of greenery… Aleena left a long while ago to the place where her Father resides in heaven, and here I sit in to reel a dream that I had a decade ago… a decade ago when she was all mine… just mine…