Down Memory's Bye-Lanes Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

Soft hues of young dawn give mind a few nods,
And I hear a frail but full voice singing
A hymn in praise of glory that be God's;
Voice wafting thru the air, years unrolling
Down memory's bye-lanes, I see a child
Struggling off winter's cosy warm bed,
Singing along in tune followed and filed,
She's not so frail and wears a younger head.

Me, three scores and more, carried by the song
To old times, wish me pair of wings my own
To travel there where I yearn to belong—
To my reverie's mesmerising dawn,
As things do, the song ends as it began,
The time warps back, and me the same old man!
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I hear my mother sing a morning hymn. Rather old, she sang in a wavering, broken voice. But the experience transformed me to my childhood to a similar scenario down the memory lane. She was quite young then and not so frail, and had a fairly good voice. I want to be there— back to childhood. But soon oh, realisation dawns— that no, it's only an early dawn's dream, and I come back to where I began.
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Sonnets | 09.08.08 |