Memory
is a late running train,
That
runs slow, dizzying people,
In the sleepy
platforms of an insipid April,
Waiting
with tremendous volumes of patience and hopes
That
life has taught them to live with.
Train of
memories spat smolders of vexed desire,
Made crossing
fields sprout corns in the season of ripen desires.
We should
not lie to parrots and sparrows that,
They hold
juices of sweet innocence!
But nuggets
of guilt never simply go down
They leave
eternal taints
and scrapes
of boundless hurt.
2 comments:
We should not lie to parrots and sparrows that,
They hold juices of sweet innocence!
beautiful lines
Wonderful anu, but is memory a slow running train?? not to me at least, for me its a bullet train speeding from one point to other always, through the valley of past incidents
:) hehe..sometimes its like tat..for me..and i madly wait for the train to come and deliver the memory parcels :) well am sure ur memory train is a bullet fast one, and thats evident from ur writing...u can write a loooooooot... :)
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