Peddler of Memories

On the other side of a darkened street
A man sells forgotten memories.
He is small and old and shy,
With a smile runaway with a wind;
He hawks like an expert,
Of memories; rain and shine,
Of ages past on a warm old day-
Of rainy monsoon cries.
The icy winds of a new heartbreak;
The warm touch of a smile;
The wetness born off a cheerful say,
The dryness born of a die.
Peddles his memories to strangers and me,
His memories of life and of death.
His memories are soft and forgotten, today!
His memories are all that is left.
I buy a memory of a morose smile-
He returns with a morose grin.
An alien memory feels up my mind;
A memory of other’s past!
A memory or a dream of a sunset one day,
A winter in spring’s own heart!
A memory of a sorrow on land of the strange-
A dream of a raindrop lost.
A memory of a smile runaway in a maze-
Of life’s little game of dice.
I am lost in the life of a strange old time-
I am lost in the life of a pain.
A life that I have never lived in-
And will never live in again!
I live a memory of a Sunday morning-
In a cottage by the lake.
A young man stands lonesome indeed,
He smiles of moist nostalgia,
Of a winter morning before:
‘A young boy sits on a special chair,
His right leg, plastered white.
He looks away at his sister’s play,
Wanting, in vain, for the ball.
He imagines a visit with a healed little leg-
He imagines his shot, and a GOAL.
He imagines him grown up and standing away-
By the lake house on one, winter’s own.
That young man imagines a future for him-
A future of dancing delights!
A future of heartbreaks, and heartbreaking songs;
A future of heart warming cries…
A drive in a car, a wife on the bed,
A penny for each day’s worth-
A kiss of good luck on reality’s skin-
A hope on the shores of a dream!’
I live a life of forgotten woes;
Forgetting who I am now!
The knowledge of past has melted away-
Leaving a new one in trust….


– Shakya Bose


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