The Future Of Present Poem by Sumita Jetley

In the bustling lanes of old Delhi's glow,
Asha finds a relic, a story to know.
Not just a can, but a glimpse of the past,
Of days when energy seemed endless, vast.

A sip, a taste, a world rewinds,
Machines, ships, and hands she finds.
It's more than metal, more than drink,
It's the sweat, the struggle, the time to think.

She sees the hands that mined the earth,
The stories woven into this object's birth.
Lives lived, dreams chased, hopes in flight,
All in her sip, under her room's soft light.

The author's pen, the worker's tool,
All carried here, quiet and cool.
Asha sees now, in her hand,
The past is present, a life unplanned.

For every object, every thing,
Holds a tale, a song to sing.
And Asha, wise, knows what's true,
These stories live on, in me, in you.