Those shady nights,
Did the cremation of my heart ,
When the old boxes were filmed
In a repeat telecast,
And the filming resulted….
In a tons of photographs,
My hands were too small
to embrace them together.
The invincible sparkle dimmed a little ,
The time those regrets infused ruling them.
Impaired the vision of my soul in agony,
Leaving it trembling in fear.
And when those fingers found a locket ,
Down the lane of my empty pocket ,
The squall has discovered its serene in it.
And threw out old boxes, regrets, photographs,
Empty pockets and lockets ,
For the light to finally enter.
Rishika Bera, Howrah