IT’S TIME

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.