far from the memories..

far from the lanes of dusty memories,
holding on some grey shades of forgotten cherries,
i was walking with bare foot of mine,
that was covered with the mud of endless time

deep within was so cold so calm,
with those wet cheeks laying upon rigid palm,
But just in mid way when i sat on a empty bench,
all the path behind took a tight clench

far from the rhymes of those silent lips
that sung amid some beautiful tulips
all went past along with the time it took
but left behind some tulips under pages of my flip-book

far in the barren pastures i laid my lone heart,
who was goaded with life's some painful dart,
seeking to take quite street there after,
to tear memories of some undisclosed chapter

The old Diary..

Sat alone listening to some old rhymes 

and was looking through the sixth grade flip-book

that has some moments of life where 

i always wanted to re-look 

Seeing some torn papers in the cupboard

was trying to make a frame out of it

But some parts had gone along the wind

whose gaps is hard to refill it

Up there it was in the dusty mantel

lying lifelessly along with web around

One of those mementos which is still there

standing alongside some dead flies to surround

In a lonely corner stayed a cupboard with wrecked doors

but still hidden some very special thoughts

i stood there, paused breathe deep and opened

And found an old diary, i used to hide under the cots

took the half rotten diary and sat on armchair

glancing over the worn out past in the pages

But still it refreshed some sweet memories

that cant die even after all those fake ages