For sure, I can imagine never,
In time, the past is not past.
It is not lost ever,
It is not forgotten at a moment lost
Its pulse is at all hours felt,
Its throbs are ever heard,
Its scent is smelt,
It offers lessons on the re-life reward.
The past is in fact the base of future
It is the link with the present
Its life is not like that of a flower
For it fades away as an event
It is a series of events in mind storing
The nightingale’s song to evoke joys
As delightful events ever recalling
As the memoirs of choice.
The past embedded in the annuls of history,
Read and shone in the album of all pages
As memoirs to rise in the fountain of memory
All linger in life’s later stages:
All marital pleasures
All tender smiles of new-born babies
It is the wealth of life treasures,
As sonorities of cuds, charms of rubies.
Published
METVERSE MUSE
75th PLATINUM JUBLIEE ISSUE (January 2023)
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