“ DRIED BUT NEVER DEAD…

Here on My couch I lie,
Gazing at My worldly possessions-
Every little thing so beautiful,
Scented memories of the past.

As new leaves spring up
My treasure too does-
Adding on old, gathering their scent.

A few effaced pages, I do possess.
And also the ashes of the one’s burnt.
Dried petals, leaves & insects-
DRIED BUT NEVER DEAD.

The scars of childhood’s still fresh,
Same are the voices of the lost ones.
All were dear’s then…
Oh! Alas, no one’s near today.

Some doors to Me are shut,
Some welcome’s pretend.
Myself a fool then, now,
Knocks at every familiar door.

It’s the pain of remembrance,
That I love most-
A remembrance of the kindest friend ever,
And of the one lost love.

The games of childhood,
The illusions of adolescence,
The battles of youth,
All!, all that fell My precious time.

I, traveled without a destination,
Now, I have but one left-
To there these treasures be brought,
And besides Me gently placed,
Remember-DRIED BUT NEVER DEAD…

05/07/2003
20:25 Hrs
Completed at Ajjampur when on dead loco accompany to Arsikere