Ah, winter.
The coldest season in a year. Snow and harsh icy winds besieged the city. Some deemed it the beginning of death. Yet some deemed it the sleep before the beginning of life.
The gardens in winter are a spectacle to behold. Formed icicles hanging from every imaginable nook and crook, they sparkled and glittered in the feeble sunlight. Like a bejeweled royalty, it holds court amidst tall concrete structures and buildings.
It had snowed earlier in the morning. The ground, the stone benches, the foliages are lightly covered with a thin blanket of snow so white and clean, I am sure no one and nothing had treaded on them since it last fallen.
Silence is thick inside the garden walls. Carefully I avoided the sleet. My boots clad feet sunk into the soft snow with an almost inaudible crunch as I wonder deeper in.
Stopping under a gazebo, I adjust my scarf to cover the lower part of my face. My lips are starting to feel numbed with the cold December wind blowing at me with much fervor. The sky looks overcast, the wind carrying the bite of an impending snowfall. Somehow the prospects of getting trapped in a snowfall did not deter me. Leaving the protection of the gazebo, I continue my wanderings.
Deeper and deeper I went into the garden; I want to reach the inner grounds before it starts to snow. Casting brief glances at the dark sky, my feet hurried forward on a familiar path that I know will bring me to my destination. Soon the sandstone walls surrounding the inner gardens came into view.
I picked my way carefully up the slippery stone steps. On the small platform at the top of the steps, a lone figure is standing stock-still, almost like many of the stone statues littering the grounds except that the coat on this figure is moving in the wind. The shoulders are straight and the poise strongly suggests that it is a man.
As I near, I could admire his crop of wavy hair lightly frosted with fallen snow. The uniqueness of the hairstyle made me curious to see what kind of man could tame his curly hair into beautiful waves.
Startled by my arrival, he turned sharply. A pair of sparkling eyes framed by dark slender eyebrows met mine. A dark gray scarf tightly wounded around the lower part of his face, just below those mesmerizing eyes.
The eyes, like deep dark whirlpools held my gaze. I could feel my heart palpitating like a small boat being tossed about ruthlessly in the stormy ocean. For the first time in my life, I found something I couldn't let go.
Snowflakes begin to drift down softly and silently from the over laden sky.
