Beside The Pond of Memories

Throwing pebbles in the still waters
Of the dark pond, cornering round my memoirs
I found myself lost in the round ripples
Massaging the chords of my nostalgia
easing off with vanishing thoughts as the
thin waves disappear in the free thinking waters.
The soil bowl dug out in the gloomy mud
gulps the rain waters leaving me thirsty for
the days when my children will revive
my leaping, joyous days of upbringing.
All seems phony now and much more
heavy with wisdom and age.
Cracks on the shore of the pond too
drinks the flowing loam after the long summer.
My cracks stay still and drip in rain as
A herd of cows grazing in rice fields in monsoon
without the thoughts of the farmer with the stick.
My thoughts are weaved with greediness
To think of all those and all that I have lost forever
and a vain trial will sit here with an extinguished mind
till the clouds or lightning drives me from here,
nods me and pushes me into my present.