A whiff of a memory
A nugget, no more
Opens flood-gates of sorts
To the glorious days of yore
Tis an addiction my love
Of the very worst kind
The present’s a bastard
Crushed by your wandering mind
Like holding sand in your fist
Like caging warm sunshine
Like trying to preserve bubbles
Nostalgia’s a futile past-time
The past may well be a frog
Only Prince from remote
Yes, it offers a bitter sweetness
Of lost young dreams and old love-notes
Richness of a mirage-like past
Will paint a drab today and morrow
So beware of this craving, my loveliness
Tis the road to inexplicable sorrow
7 comments:
Amazing as always.
Did not get the title though.. would be an interesting choice?
You write beautifully. And even better when it's poetry.
If I have your permission, I'll post this on twitter.
@Yogesh - the title and poem in a way is inspired by the Woody Allen movie - Midnight in Paris. Watch it if you can, it's a nice one. And thanks :)
@Neha - Thanks :) Sure, you can post it. I would be flattered.
Wow - What lines !
Loved this one...
The past may well be a frog
Only Prince from remote
Thanks Kandarp :)
Thanks K :)
"Richness of a mirage-like past
Will paint a drab today and morrow"
i like this, though i dont want to :)
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