Saturday, April 22, 2017

Remembering an Old Friend


How easily I got busy
to forget small things that were dear to me
when the mind & heart were innocent!!!

I slipped my hands off
from those who held us together as a ring of roses...
those days we sang ringa ringa roses.

I became indifferent to the sound of rain
dripping from the window pane,
which used to turn me euphoric at nights.

I stopped gazing at the clouds
which gave me my creativity
of forming everything from nothing.

I became deaf to the hawker who sold cotton candy,
I used to appease my taste buds free of cost...
later in the day, getting sweet scolding from dad for buying them on credit.

I no more walk down the street in a cold new year's dawn,
face covered with mother's hand woven muffler,
to drop a hand-painted greeting card at a friend's door.

I no more wait for anybody to drop one at my door either...

I see now, an old friend
still waiting at my door,
giving a hope that "There is time, Come Back"...

It seems my friend waited quite long,
with rusted hands wide open
gone too weak and now hanging at the mercy of wind...
My Mail Box



Copyright © 2017 by Oliva Rath. All rights reserved. This material cannot be copied and reproduced in any form without permission.

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