The Girl with the White Cane

This poem is dedicated to all the pessimists and those in mourning/depression/anyone who is upset out there, and specially dedicated to Asthaa. :)

In the morning, she steps out of her cottage
with her loyal white cane to guide her.

She walks on the beach, on the wet sand

that speaks the voices of a million spirits.

She smiles as the sand tickles her toes

as they laugh and play with each other,

and feels the rush of the waves to greet her

to the innermost core of her bones

and feels them lovingly lap the tips of her toes.

She listens patiently to what the waves have to say,

smells their ticklish salty fragrance,

and tastes their words on the back of her tongue.

She listens to the seagulls as they sing to each other,

and listens to the distant call of a fast sailing ship.

She feels the warmth of sunlight splashed on her face

and tastes his blessings on her tongue.

She sits down and picks up a seashell,

and holding it to her ear, she listens

to the speech of the shy, young spirit hiding inside.

She smiles as he whispers to her a secret

pleased that she is the only one who knows.

She touches the carvings and shape of the shell,

assuring him that his secret is safe.

She feels and listens to the pleasant hum of Mother Nature,

nestled deep within the core of the earth,

she places her hand on the surface,

and assures her everything will be okay one day.

She picks up her white cane

and walking back home, smiles as she remembers

today is her first day at school;

the school for the blind.

Read it everyday, Asthaa.