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We are Firmly Rooted in the Soil of Nostalgia

26 Oct

As I swiftly filter, grains of the present day

Through the porous, damaged and corroded tray

Rusted bits impede the flow of the grains

The air around, swirls and in it contains

Poise and poison of the time that passed

Wounds deep enough that they never healed

People around me claim that past won’t return

It never left me whether I swallow or churn

The smiles that it gifted are irreplaceable

The lessons that it taught are memorable

I can envisage everything, starting from the cradle

That day when I trembled and was feeble

The coziest place was my mothers’ lap

I had limbs which I could just flap

Soon the world demanded more from me

I had to cram everything from A till Z

The curiosity arose to view things alone

Heedless about the pests to which I was prone

First the trod then the brisk and finally I ran

All this made me experience my first sprain

But I had props to make me stand up

Brothers who were always there to buck up

While my father helped me to solve sums

Mother caressed me when I had pox and mumps

Their job lessened as I became a teenager

Considering it legitimate to be a transgressor

The vicissitudes of life refined me thoroughly

Shaping me into what I am, currently

Meanwhile, my brothers went so many miles away

Leaving behind thoughts entangled in disarray

They went to strive for their endeavors and existence

I also had to decide a professional residence

But, now when I have chosen for myself a path

In the ocean of memories I take a bath

The only drops that have failed to evaporate

Are those, reminding of the small spoon and plate

The pleasant days when life was much simpler

Crayon and clay was the best entertainer

Stories with happy endings seemed to be too real

Interaction was painless and deprived of fear

I wonder why all the grains cling around

Even if I fidget or move in a round

They still adhere to me strongly, somehow

In this vicious and complex circle of life

No matter how much we struggle or strive

The yearning for the past events of life

Compels all of us to stay intact with

A few jewels and some amount of filth

Buried in a pile of neither gem nor silica

Perhaps we all are firmly rooted

In the barren but attractive soil of Nostalgia

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Posted by on October 26, 2012 in Poems from the heart

 

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