Memories of Love
37 Summers later,
I sit on that old reclining chair,
The one that belonged to my grandmother.
I have made a garden out of my home,
Of my mother’s love for anything
And everything green.
The simple table made of Mahogany
Older than me,
Rests in the corner, against the walls,
One of the few belongings
That my grandfather left behind.
My father’s old bookshelf gathers dust,
With half eaten books within.
Does a shelf get wiser
From holding what’s within?
I sit there,
Old and frail,
Age tearing me down,
Memories and reminders,
holding me together.
There’s a photo.
There is always a photo, on the wall,
That is overwhelming.
It has me several decades younger,
Kissing her, who shared the womb.
Shadows Of people
Shadows of people, linger.
I close my eyes.
To shut them out.
The fan groans in desperate strains,
Assuring me of its existence,
Painfully reminding me
Of my loneliness.
I smile a little as the tears
Cling on to my lower eyelids.
Oh! The irony.
I can’t find solace in loneliness.
Because there’s nothing like loneliness
To remind me of you.
This blog post is a part of the Petals of Love Blog Hop hosted by Swarnali Nath.We’re a bunch of 30 writers across the globe, coming to you with 30 different pieces on Love