Album Poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay

From the deepest alley
I dust out the album.
Faces that look out
Seem distant and alien,
Selves that yearn no more,
A time that cares no more.
My wife prettily raw,
Our son of a new world,
The cat with wondrous eyes,
Gone before I could touch them.
On each frame pose shapes
Frozen ageless happy
With nothing but the present
Radiating a forever goodness
Breaking through dusty ages
To stand here now in my eyes.
I feel a pain well up in me
And before my eyes gather mist,
I put back the album
In the deepest alley of my heart.