A Page from Yesterday

I rummage through my overstuffed bookshelf, and stumble upon a long-forgotten book of poems a friend has given me, ever so long back...another age, another distant planet. I smile in recollection as the memories tumble out from between its slightly yellowed pages. 

He used to write poetry then; poems on life, on hope, on love. I don’t recall those lines anymore, but I remember they had been eloquent, honest, and heartfelt. I remember the deep affection and tenderness I had felt, for the person who had loved me in silence...

We’ve come so far now, and so much has changed, but I like the friendship that has emerged unscathed from the embers of a doomed love...the sentiment that has managed to survive, even transcend, that all-encompassing emotion. I like where we stand now, in this present moment.

I don’t love him now; not in that way at least. But I love the feeling this anthology evokes. I still love that time, when two people had held this book and read it together. And I know, with profound clarity, that I will always love those sunshine days, when he had been a poet, and I, his muse. 

No S**t!

They watch the show on TV in silent camaraderie. Their age, separated by almost 3 decades, hasn’t had any significant impact on their friendship. He enjoys sitting with her - cushions thrown across their outstretched legs, the way they both like it, providing some warmth on a slightly chilly day - and watching the latest Japanese superhero show. It’s his favourite, and he watches intently in awed wonder, while she finds it strange and funny, and laughs in all the wrong places. But she’ll watch it anyway, for the simple reason that he enjoys it. 

All’s good, until they can both sense some inappropriate-for-the-young-and-innocent words coming on, in those dubbed dialogues. Now is when they feel the age divide. The younger one tenses, while the older one wonders if she should turn the show off for a few moments. No one moves. 

And just when those words are about to be spoken, all the action suddenly seems to take place outside of the idiot box. The little boy, taking full responsibility for his TV show, deftly turns towards his mum and covers her ears with his tiny hands.

Yes, innocence must be protected at all costs.

The Endless River

Looking beyond the embers of bridges glowing behind us
To a glimpse of how green it was on the other side
Steps taken forwards but sleepwalking back again
Dragged by the force of some inner tide.

The grass was greener
The light was brighter
The taste was sweeter
The nights of wonder
With friends surrounded
The dawn mist glowing
The water flowing
The endless river
Forever and ever...

Borrowing words from Pink Floyd till I can find my own. Until then, it's High Hopes.