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| Courtesy: Afiler (Licensed under Creative Commons) |
The wayside was littered with dreams I'd once dreamt
And with versions of myself that I'd hoped to be
"What is this place?" I asked the listening air
"It's the place you've all along refused to see."
It was the place of lives un-lived & desires un-done
Of people I'd never met & parties I'd never gone to
Of friends I'd never made & sentences I'd never said
Of poems I'd never written & feelings I'd suppressed.
Their only raison d'etre was to be trapped in my memory
Or rather in the cobwebby corridors of my unwritten history
"This place needs a good sweep," my invisible friend said
The one I thought I'd left behind in the veranda of my childhood
But dusk came by & I remained standing in the company of what wasn't meant to be
I remained mesmerised by the thought of setting them free.
And with versions of myself that I'd hoped to be
"What is this place?" I asked the listening air
"It's the place you've all along refused to see."
It was the place of lives un-lived & desires un-done
Of people I'd never met & parties I'd never gone to
Of friends I'd never made & sentences I'd never said
Of poems I'd never written & feelings I'd suppressed.
Their only raison d'etre was to be trapped in my memory
Or rather in the cobwebby corridors of my unwritten history
"This place needs a good sweep," my invisible friend said
The one I thought I'd left behind in the veranda of my childhood
But dusk came by & I remained standing in the company of what wasn't meant to be
I remained mesmerised by the thought of setting them free.
