Nostalgia Poem by Anil Kumar Panda

There lies ahead of me
The flat road to the past
I can hear the sound of
Conchs in between reading
Of hymns here in my enclosure
Made of card-board and glass

The A4 size news paper
Thrown upon the wet cot
Speaks a lot about the town
I can hear the clanks
Of a dozen wheels measuring
The gravel coated road when
Ash from the incense sticks
Draws my portrait on the floor
I am living in the past like
A memory shared between
Me and time in this hour of
Noon when I am getting chocked
With the damp artificial air