In my dark little room
Somewhere in the corner
In the dim lamp light
I saw one small object
Its my old class text book
I took it into my hands
Cleaned the dust over it
Flipped the pages slowly
While recalling past stories
That had made me old
I read it with tiny hands
It was meant to be a tale
To memorize and score
But now hands changed
So the meaning of tales too
I read and closed the book
Kept it aside the dim lamp
Then in the same dark corner
I saw one more torn book
It's my own hearts written tale
The tale of a heart that is as old as an old text book has been nicely revealed.
I liked the way the words feel out of my mouth good flow well written
very very provocative write and to find the torn heart in the corner the poem goes beyond the limit of appreciation............
such a great evocative piece.......love it's narration...well told! ! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The past does joggle the heart