Age was sinking fast –
layer by layer
from that worn-out table, where
An old glass
was
Holding up its fragile stand
keeping its past memory submerged
That
in those days of my childhood, She would
Grip her fingers around
the warm milk
and would stretch her hands out towards my mouth
to gurgle it lovingly
Luring me with toys, and lullaby
I plaint a sad cry –
The wherewithal of that touch
A circumspect piece enriched by a plenitude of tropes redolent of Borges and Proust.
So much thanks dear Sir Louis Kasatkin for thy precious comments.
Poignant,nostalgic,and brilliant!
So humbled dear Sir Vijay Nair Ji.
A deep and insightful poem about life and time.
So much thanks dear Sir Sameer Ji
A lovely, nostalgic poem..