Would you play the flute,only for me,she asked,and her query made the man smile..
Of course,I can never play the flute for anyone else but you,he said,and looked at the stars..
She smiled and danced alongwith the fireflies,as if a maiden of heaven..
Or she was a maiden of heaven?
Or sky?
And in the lone night,he sat,waiting for moon to leave and sun to rise,
To get back to work,to solve the piles of problem..
To do his work..
And picked up the lone flute that sat beside him,with a melancholic smile..
And whistled another tune of longing..
Music was the language of soul..
But she was the person his soul craved for..
Her eyes held him captive,in them..
Her heart his native..
What does it matter if he could never play a flute..
He would still be her heartbeat,
As long as she lives,in any corner of the world..
And accompany her,as the soothing music of night,to fall asleep..
