Sunday, 29 November 2015

I had this habit of …

I had this habit of …

Picking up,
Dried twigs,
Fallen flowers,
Orange leaves,
Caressing my way!

I squirreled them away,
In the silent pockets,
Of my florid purse,
To show you,
(may be) someday!

And make you,
Look at the life,
(from my eyes),
I recollected,
Every time,
While walking up to you!

But I never could upend,
The unseen pockets of my purse!
For you had already,
Numberless sights,
Filling your eyes,
In succulent ways.

I was afraid!
To bemuse you,
Or even evoke a cold stare;
And thus, I became,
‘Collector of Unwed Recollections’,

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