The times

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Infinite memories swirling around in my head,

They zoom by,

Showing little snatches,

Of times forgotten!

Golden sunlit rays of warmth,

And laughter,

Moonshine nights of tenderness,

And romance,

Black cloudy skies,

Of struggles and fear,

Lonely nights of heartbreaks,

And tears,

They’re all there,

In my mind,

Dancing their regal dances,

Smiling their poker smiles,

Holding grave secrets,

Deep inside.

Reminding me of my past,

Of some times significant,

Some which ought to be forgotten.

Of people with their colors,

And enigma,

Of the ones,

Who lived in the black and white shades,

Of the past,

Or the ones,

Who only hoped,

Of a better dawn tomorrow.

Stuck in my memory,

Like the stills of multicolored photographs,

Each color a link,

To another memory!

These times came,

And sped by,


And returned,

To add another moment to my life.


Memories of my old friends,

Shall fade away,

To make a place for the new;

And someday,

Maybe one, two or five decades away,

When from being programmed work robots,

I turn to a crippled old being,

Ignored by the next generation,

Left to die inside the four walls,

Of an old age home,

Lying alone,

In a skeleton of a bed,

Powerless to move,

As I let my imagination,

Prowl though my memories;

Only then shall I remember these times,

The times that died off with my childhood!

Hangouts with friends,

And late night spoofs,

Kisses of girlfriends,

And the stolen evening booze,

Flirts and friendships,

Short lil’ road trips,

The joys of the things I did,

And the regrets of the ones I didn’t do,

Shall all be a mess,

In my head!

My properties and wealth,

All stolen by my children,

All my hard work lost!

These bags of medicine,

Rags of clothing,

Is all I got!


These times are the things, my friend,

On which shall I refurbish,

My smile,

That I lost!


        -Ishaan Phukan



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