of people long passed away
adorn the night rain
sweeping in

are they together, still ?
arm in arm
as the frame contains?
on a grey afternoon, among the champa trees.
the mother
her precious jewel
on to the warmth of her bosom.

the decades in between,
the picture and the present
An era
fading, in a family album
losing to termites
suddenly bloom like violets,
tossing out of the frozen time.

the cradle, the talcum and the smell of love.

you stare on to those frames
searching a milieu-
                           of corridors
                           jasmines and
                           the golden skies
- that would take you in,
so that, you can find a reason
to live on.


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