Memory Basket Poem by Sathya Narayana

The basket of memories
had started growing heavy
on my wizened hands.

The apples therein
looked as fresh as ever
Every fresh dropp of tear
added to their tone
Every latest spill of blood
improved their colour.

Few more yards on that
dimpled sandy shoal.
I can see the end
half clear; half blurred.
Somewhere I have to stop.

The roaring waves looked kindly
at me.

The evening sand under my feet
felt lukewarm.

The dusking Sun flashed his
last parting grin.

My only worry;
can I carry my basket till end
and......... beyond?