"Have you written anything yet?"
"I don't feel inspired."
"I think you need to be alone."
So alone I was,
for an hour and half.
Everything had closed down.
For a city girl, this was a shock.
I finally went down to the riverside,
And stood there listening to the silence.
I remembered a story I heard of the
maiden who rode her horse down the mountain,
Who rode quite slowly but no one could catch up to her.
I remembered how a Prince had chased her,
Until he got her.
In the story I heard, he had called out to her, "Stop!"
When he asked her why she hadn't stopped before,
She replied, "Well, you never asked."
I had laughed when I first heard the story.
I laughed again,
Remembering it now.
Can everything life really be that simple?
All you need to do is just ask?
Or are things just simpler in stories
Because they always need to make sense?
And life, well life never really does!
I sat down by the riverside
and watched the sunlight glinting on the water.
And I remembered an early morning
back home, when we had taken a boat ride.
They say only time can heal a broken heart.
But for me, I believe water stands a fair chance!
Being able to remember everything
In the tiniest of details is both a gift and a curse.
And the saddest thing about memory is
It comes back to you when you least expect it.
There was a boy who I loved since the time I was sixteen.
The boy loved me back when I was twenty seven.
But it was a whirlwind love story, and it came to an end.
No, end is not the correct word for us.
The correct would be -
the feeling you get when you rip off the bandage
from a wound that's not quite healed yet.
It's so quiet by the riverside,
So quiet that I am nearly deafened by
the screams echoing in my head.
And over the screams there's one faint little whisper,
A thought that took root in my head ever since
I heard the myth that afternoon -
"Would you have stayed if I too had just asked?"