Pebbles Poem by BASAB CHAUDHURI

A few steps forward and then coming back,
I pick up pebbles and carefully put them in my pocket -
just to throw them away later, may be a few minutes after
I accumulated them.
I ask myself 'why', keep quiet for some time and walk backwards,
where bluish water takes a turn and moves away from me.
Moving away - it leaves a feeling in mind -
where does it go and why.
All why(s) do not have answers, or you may say, definite answers,
they evolve slowly as always -
from the prehistoric days to the modern times,
there is a pattern, must be,
deep within mind, in ancestors, in descendants, something similar,
I know and I look for them in pebbles before I throw them away.
Childhood runs through my body, in my blood -
yes, childhood in this old physique,
a mind within mind.
I pick up the pebbles and put in my pocket.
I do not know when I will throw them away and where.