its something new out of the old

 She punches in the old hard keys of the type writer in an abandoned house...

It was  tender outside. The pattering rain peaked in through the window as i slept peacefully or rather oblivious of the nature's play. The jovial mood of the light breeze and the cold soft rain drops settled in contrast to the matters of the heart.The morning hues dawned quietly by my window and  the wind  softly billowed away thin cream curtains. In a dreamy state i opened my heavy eyes to the beautiful and refreshing fragrance of summer monsoon. Against my desire to kick away the blanket and pop out of the bed like a jack in the box, i laid there, motionless. I knew i was wasting time, staring at the plain ceiling above, with the fan in its rotatory flight, cooling my sleepy hot temper...

For a moment she stops, listens intently, the high and the low notes of silence gathers around her. From a distance her lean figure in the light of the moon pouring in through the clean glass window, resembles to that of a pianist and his piano and music notes...she continues playing her notes and the words spread across the page...