Sometimes we draw strength from strange quarters.
We met again.
The way we sat was symbolic, by the side and yet not beside.
A heart laden with bitter pain, strained thoughts weighing my head.
I sense the presence even before he steps in.
A momentary hold of a glance longer than strangerhood allowed, almost as if the strained thoughts were understood.
Starved with a horrid pain one longs for a word of hope,a word of comfort.
No words spoken, nothing shared.
Yet when I left it felt as if silence had spoken more than words could.
Yet I catch my strength in the tinkle of his laughter.
Somehow, walking down, hardly moments after being by the side and yet not beside I heard the tinkle of my laughter too, like the heart had found strength to beat a horrid pain.
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