When the present, it torments you
Go, take refuge in the past,
Even though they all say
Nothing does forever, last

But, do you know where forever is
And, are you prepared to wait,
By the time things turnaround
You might well be too late.

Leave it to the Socrates gang
The Philosophers of the Universe,
Consolation is that and, no more
‘Tis all the same in prose and verse.

Remember the little rivulets
Those streams of your dreams,
When you thought the world was yours
With those, lovely, childish, schemes

When dolls lived in wooden homes
Till you took them out,
Dressed them and made all the fuss
And, with them played about

And, if you were a little boy
All of five, ten or twenty,
The gun would be your favourite toy
And, fun would be aplenty.

There is nothing so pretty, so misty
As the valley you once romped in,
The beauty of silence, the echoes of it
No sounds of noise, no sights of din.

Remember, that Past belongs to you
And you, the rightful owner,
You, the one who gave it life
You the blessed, Donor

So, go revel in it if you like
Relish those times of old,
Nostalgia,  hits us all alike
Shining silver or lustrous gold.

You can pick and choose, out of memory
Where you wish to get lost,
When the Sun was bright or fading the light
For, nothing is really the cost.

Go, live in the past sometimes
Go sing those limericks and rhymes,
Remember those nights and days of yore
They won’t come back, no more.

(The author is a prolific poet who has over 30 poetry books to his credit. He can be reached at ashoksawhny06@gmail.com/ www.ashoksawhny.com)