Nostalgia Poem by RAJAT GHOSH

The numberless little back-birds run
Where the horizon kisses the setting sun.
Sitting on broken staircase, melancholy mind
Flies back to somewhere past that was blind.

You and me and that old big Banyan tree
Where then all our footsteps became free.
O the life of joy and the childish sweet sorrows;
O the ringing river with beautiful good morrows;
O the rusty red 'morrum' and the path muddy;
All gone they were with the golden field of paddy.

Now with irony window claustrophobic room speaks,
And all lost hearts tag life with multiple fruitless clicks.

Lost what I was, and a mournful mechanical me borns,
Lost what you and all were, and time everybody torns!