by Hiraa Kazmi

I walk ahead

_ _ _

_ _ _

In the once… dearly beloved street,

creeping and merging into the others,

a labyrinth I once knew as the back of my hand.

I walk alone

Under the soothing ‘tip tap’ of Rain,

Amidst the crowd that has no face beknown

How strange-

I rummage through the rustic past

Past, that once promised refuge

Now promises Nothing, delivers Nothing.

Memory betrays or Time does?

I lose the battle

Years have gone by,

putting dust unto face, lives and places

All is changed and so have I…

I walk alone

No healing touch, no long lost connection

No spark to ignite the cold emotion

My futile hope gasps in pain,

 I stare around with stinging eyes,

in one last attempt to give it life.

I find Nothing, I feel nothing.

Memory betrays or Time does?

I lose the battle…

_ _ _

_ _ _

I walk away

Birthplace