Waiting for Serendipity

i waited for Serendipity, it felt like eternity in that bench by the trees

only yesterday we met--very late--by chance or fate at that bench by the trees

with a promise i came here in the same bench by the trees

i waited but no, nobody did go to the bench by the trees

methinks if it were Kismet we'd have met... at that bench by the trees

keep me company

went to my usual bench in the park i usually go to to feel alone. i heard some clanging. didn’t notice there was a small temple in the middle of the pond. on the bridge that connected this temple to where i was, there sat a black, bobtail cat. a very chubby cat, black as coal, with eyes to match.

did everything to coax this cat to come to me. i called to it, reached out to it, i whispered a promise, i begged, i bribed. to no avail. giving up, i sat on the steps next to it. wouldn’t you know, it went straight for my lap and curled its enormous, feline body into a round, purring ball of fur. stunned into stillness, i instinctively wrapped my arms around its body, if only to confirm what my eyes refuse to believe.

i gently stroked it and found it staring at me. for a moment i feared it would bite my neck. it would be too late to avoid any of its attacks. after a while i decided i was not part of its food chain and continued stroking its lovely, soft body.

i was giving it warmth, in this cold, breezy park. it was giving me warmth in a different way. it had trusted me, on its own terms. unconditional trust.

we shared an hour or so of silence. i was eased into a trance from its rythmic purring, the crickets chirping, the ocassional splash from the fish that live in the pond, and the gentle breeze that made the leaves in the trees dance a slow kind of dance.

it was a different kind of happiness i felt beside that pond. there was no wild fluttering of the heart, no spasmic contractions of the gut. i didn’t feel like smiling at all.

if happy could be cold, it would be this.

and then it decided to go. you’d think i’d feel cold. you’d think i’d feel empty from its absence. no regret. no longing. no promises.

it was time to go.