Thank You

You take a rickshaw from the place beyond which autos aren't allowed. You're happy sitting on a rickshaw after a long long time. Filled with joy. Feels like home after a vey very long time. You sit on the rickshaw with the hood up. The sun still shining on your face on the cold winter morning. The wind blowing on your face. You're glad to find winter again. The man takes you through the streets of your crazy little town. You look around smiling. Your ears plugged into your little white magic box and you listen to your favourite music. As you go along the uneven road, with each thud you fear your small and large intestine switch places. You're very happy.
And then you think of that face and that smile. It's the smile that you know best in the whole wide world, very surprisingly though. Very surprisingly. You could draw every curve of it without having seen it for a hundred years. So etched in your heart. So synonymous with joy. You're reminded of something that you always say - It's the eyes that you want to look at, it's the eyes that make you fall in love but it's the smile that you always remember.
That smile which "pulls the strings in your heart" till you hear music loud and clear. The music that takes your soul flying. The music that reminds you who you are. Music that shows you the world that only you can see. Music that makes you want to hold his hand and run. If theres anybody whose hand you want to hold and run it's his, very surprisingly. Music that makes you want to be young with him, go playing around in a sunflower field in the sunshine, just to know what it would be like to have known him forever, just to be his playmate.
As you write you wonder how strange it is. But it is nothing but the truth, the whole of it.
Your Angel. Unknowingly so.