Memories could be so very strange
and in us, of a varied type and range
that some make our funny bone to tickle
few see to the lachrymal glands to trickle.
that it is not that easy to give it a burial.
Only when our bodies cease to live
from our minds, we can make it to leave.
At times, there might have been a reason
or might have heralded some sort of a season
that these memories might have got surface
which hopefully doesn’t make one to grimace.
If what one has stored is heartfelt and real
It would be always apt to see to its revival.
Atleast one can, looking back, to let out a smile
that would’ve ceased from the face from a while.
As this work, I sat back and began to write
It reminded me of someone who is out of sight.
All I can hope is if one day, this she goes to read
she will understand, her presence, is what I need.
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