Memoirs…

 

Trees, they don’t see, they don’t hear

They don’t know and may be they don’t fear.

As a kid I read somewhere

They are the best that are there.

With no happiness, they don’t grief

Having no remorse they don’t feel.

But as leaves fall from the trees,

They spark life and many memories.

How do they do which they don’t have in them?

How do they remind us the stories of the-then?

Stories pushed out of our mind

Stories that are lost in time..

 

Of all the times we smiled without a reason

Of the times we cried with seasons;

Of all the times we wanted to hold on,

Of the times, time felt so long.

Serving us good even as they die

Can we be like them at any point of time?

Is this a sign that when our time comes,

We can light the light in some?

Does that mean, only after we fall,

The long lost time wouldn’t seem so bad after all?

How do they do what they don’t have in them?

How do they remind us of what we have forgotten

As they lay still?

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