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Day 260: Memories

Image Courtesy: Google Images
Like the silver stream that runs down the mountains,
A string of thoughts meander through my wrinkled grey.
These very rivulets drifting through the ridges,
shape new cities and form new districts.
Same goes for my thoughts as they paint new memories. 
If I pause and follow the path, 
I can see some flashes of moments from days called the past. 
Are they really past? I wonder, 
To me they are memories,  
without any beginning nor an end. 
They say memories are to be cherished
and can never be undone, 
yet, I wonder if they remember that, 
these run and paint my wrinkled grey
and I can just let them flow a different way 
all at my instant will. 
As I close my eyes and rewind to that old thought, 
I remember a few obscure moments in parts. 
A memory of a guy in a blue shirt, but his face is all blurred. 
I do not recollect his name nor his reason to be in my frame. 
I remember a few soft dolls with a little girl holding on to it, 
I can see a sweet hug and many sharp taunts. 
Are these people with life or mannequins, for they all look alike. 
A shiver and I remember the tug of war within myself, 
for these memories at times do not make any sense.
I see me there, yet I am far, 
it is like as though I am watching a different person through a lens. 
I try to erase a few bad ones as they
tantalize the jillion happy moments. 
I hope to save most other ones, but
they seem to fade and say goodbye at once. 
Just like the sublime nature's hand, 
the memories in me are sometimes lost in clock. 

© Meena Arvind 
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