The Fireplace

The cold of a winter night could be felt on the face of the lady sitting beside the fireplace. The damp eyes having a tinge of redness reminds me of a rabbit's eye. The hand holding a photograph of her life her true love as she had always thought but does not seem to be true anymore. Throwing the photograph in the fire and watching it turn into flames and then to ashes does not seems to bring any peace to her. The broken heart needs someone to soothe it with love again, the pouring eyes want hands that will wipe the tears. The tired head wants to rest on the shoulder of someone but none seems to be available for her. Soaked in the pain and suffering from her broken heart she could barely speak anything. 

Sitting beside the fireplace she was asking questions to herself why so much pain and suffering? Why do we get attached to someone and give them the authority to harm us? Why does love end with misery? 

Suddenly she saw a photograph of her mother in the album and said to herself "she loved me more than this idiot guy but I never felt her love and hurt her many times. Now I know how she would have felt lonely and alone. She wiped her tears and made a commitment to go back to her mother and be there with her forever. 

Everything was witnessed by the fireplace. The only thing it could do was to give his warmth to the lady.