Poetry of the day

Memories

Like every year suddenly it is

now an evening of winter , yes ;

Diwali is tomorrow ,

or the day after .

The red ball of sun setting low

between two apartment buildings

is like a memory , or even

memorabilia of other people,

or like in an old film .

So many lifetimes get spent

in one life .

Memories held at bay , foreign

like a disease , can gang up

and corner you , smash everything;

or can surround you softly

like sounds of maids working

and singing their eternal songs

– bells pealing with old meanings;

or ripple like laughter of children

playing in a park like early spirits ,

and take off wheeling to the city

skies like migrating birds ;

or,finally, they keep boring down

deeper like conscience , ageing ,

abandoned waters , history .

Memories are what

one comes here for :

This is a creation by memories

mirrored ,

and mirroring .