In a dark corner of the attic
I opened an old tarnished and black,trunk.
To my amazement it was filled with cool stuff,
Handwritten screenplays ,sonnets and letters,
wrapped in ribbons carefully and placed.
Pictures in grey scale ,static yet stunned.
I felt a connection with time gone by,
how simple things were treasured.
Peacock feathers and roses hidden
in the silent guard of pages
now yellowed and torn.
while I spent some time here
the confession of time.
like a weight in my chest
made me realize how we hold on
to the pieces of the past
while we dream for our future
Really living for the day is living.
outcast the calender pitfalls,
let every toll of bell cast a new dream
who cares when we are gone.
cross the boundless ocean of time ,
gone or to come
Brilliant post, a shinning truth.Yes the present becomes the past but the many defy the reality and refuse to admit their faults. Holding to memories could be a 2 edged sword.Best regards.Jalal
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🙂 Thank you Jalal…you beautifully conveyed my thoughts…really liked your analogism….
Warm Blessings,
Sheetal
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Very important post. Your words paint a very strong image. Hugs, Barbara
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Thank you for your kind words,
Warm Blessings,
Sheetal
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love this…you will find something quite similar on my blog titled “the trunk”. thank you!
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will surely check your post also thank you for reading my post…
Regards,
Sheetal
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Reminiscing is great at times, but living in the here and now is beneficial to the soul. vw
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🙂 true…
Regards,
Sheetal
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Blessings. vw
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🙂
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