The lost times-1
I am scared of the vintage.
For what I am speaking will remain in whispers.
For what I am writing will soak in papers.
The light in the picture is the light of the past
that had a life but not today.
The stories untold and events umpteen
are lost somewhere in the heap of dismay.
I must have lived somewhere in the yore
and living again with no instinct.
The day will come when I too will be gone,
leaving behind my dust in synch.
The lost times-2
The world that lived few years back
is still alive with faces changed.
Eyes stare and smiles so powerful
to knock the door of peace forayed.
Look at them,their glimmering faces
speaking of the fun they once had.
I can find me among one of them,
with the same expression and a dusty clad.
I am scared of the vintage.
For what I am writing will soak in papers.
The light in the picture is the light of the past
that had a life but not today.
The stories untold and events umpteen
are lost somewhere in the heap of dismay.
I must have lived somewhere in the yore
and living again with no instinct.
The day will come when I too will be gone,
leaving behind my dust in synch.
The lost times-2
The world that lived few years back
is still alive with faces changed.
Eyes stare and smiles so powerful
to knock the door of peace forayed.
Look at them,their glimmering faces
speaking of the fun they once had.
I can find me among one of them,
with the same expression and a dusty clad.
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