As we age, the urge to reconnect with the past becomes stronger. Some images are still clearly etched, while most are not. Eyes go misty and a lump forms in the throat as we reminisce of the days gone by with our friends and family. A photograph ,a card, a notebook, a box of knick knacks, a dress buried in the wardrobe, an equipment lying in disuse ...any of these can be a trigger to take a trip down the Memory Lane. I am currently visiting my hometown Patna...need I say more ?!☺️
Memory Lane
I didn't find it on Google Maps ,The broad street , or was it narrow?
Was it straight or meandering?
Lined with homes with open doors,
Winds zinged through uncurtained windows.
Dusty images of people long ago ,
Smiling eyes, questioning eyes, quarrelling eyes ,
Basking in lemony winter sun,
All enveloped in warm cotton wool. Laughing voices ,shrieking voices, carefree voices ,
Sailing across cool terraces,
All muted in layers of felt .
A patch of green, a thatch of blue,
A batch of fragrant white,
All colours watered and pale.
I wipe my glasses ,
I strain my ears,
Trying to catch a glimpse,
Trying to snatch a note,
Of my receding past,
When I turn the corner
of my Memory Lane!!
All enveloped in warm cotton wool. Laughing voices ,shrieking voices, carefree voices ,
Sailing across cool terraces,
All muted in layers of felt .
A patch of green, a thatch of blue,
A batch of fragrant white,
All colours watered and pale.
I wipe my glasses ,
I strain my ears,
Trying to catch a glimpse,
Trying to snatch a note,
Of my receding past,
When I turn the corner
of my Memory Lane!!