Change Is A Rogue
A rusted padlock, two keys in a trinket,
And a defunct old clock that needs to be reset.
I grab the hour’s needle and down it goes gently,
It springs back, I sigh, I heave up my trolley.
Farewell, amigo, for change is a rogue,
A charming little story, then a sour epilogue.
New hopes and new joys, I’m comfortingly told,
A travesty, this market – where your memories are sold.
My home, my speechless friend, you did hear much
Of my rues, of my highs, of my glories and such,
You echoed my triumphs, you vaulted my fears
In the cracks of your walls that guarded my tears.
I scoffed at your dwindled lamp, at an oft leaking tap,
But you know, in the evenings, solace lay in your warm lap,
Change is a rogue, and I can’t help but comply.
Do you feel the way I do? Do you silently cry?
I write your unsaid answer on the walls of my heart,
I stash away some memories, with some I must part –
A rusted padlock, two keys in a trinket,
And a defunct old clock that needs to be reset.
4 comments:
Hi Nishant, I am not surprised that you are equally good at poetry as you are at prose. Very well written and your vocabulary is as impeccable as always. Having changed around 11 houses in 10 years (not kidding!) I totally relate to the sentiment. Change indeed is a rogue. Thank you for sharing and wish you'd post more often :-)
Very nice to read... You are right, we do go ahead with changes but no one can take the memories away from us...
You're a brilliant writer Nishant. Am glad to connect with you :)
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