This path so far travelled
I see, and then look ahead
To kick the can
I see littered across it
Over the hazy view ahead
Through the dusty window
With my finger
I draw- a smiley.
Across the surface
Of these still depths
Of my mind
I skim a pebble to bounce
And watch- the gentle ripples.
In the book I live
The binding still smells fresh
There are many pages left
And I cannot resist a peek
To see the end.
The end that may be.
That may be
The side that is Right
Or the side that is Left
But surely the funnier.
Seventy? Me?
(Now, did I hear that right?)
Deepak Manchanda
Sep 05,2019
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem