A JOURNAL OF LOST DREAMS

Walking down this dark alley

Wrapped up in a woolen shawl

I go into musings…of my imagined reality!

Yesterday the book that I had closed

Lies open on my palms today

And Lo! There it is,

my heart that I had lost long ago.

I walk down the green path that runs

Along the pine boulevard of my dreams…

Instead of these wintry winds of the night

An evening breeze hums in my ears

Little raindrops fall upon me, and you,

And we hear the cuckoo of spring ‘coo-ing’!

My loneliness leaves me

When I feel your fingers crossing mine

I cannot let go this ambience that we create

And yet, I can see you leaving…

Now there are only dusty walls surrounding me

In this dark alley, as I walk all alone! 

CURSED NOSTALGIA III

You still cling to the trunk

Of the Great Old Oak

That stands above all the memories

Of those spring days of that cursed year.

You made me a vagabond

Wandering in search of your ruins

and the monuments that you had built

In the dark underworld of my dreams.

You are cursed.

The little child of the Old Banyan

Curses you and your great Old Oak,

Enveloping all the memories

Of the halfway houses of those

Drought-struck lands.

Like the west winds blowing past

the high tower on the hilltop,

Tonight the air comes creeping

Sweeping all memories forever,

Cursing the melancholy days.