Papers
These yellowed bits are all I have
It's all that remains of the past
In days of yore, who could have thought
They'd be the only ones to persist.
With every piece that's touched and felt
A bygone fragment I revive.
The little hands that wrote on them
wave at me,
On their faces a gentle smile.
With welled up eyes, I look at them
and kindly I do wave.
Then turn away and off I stride
Leaving those bits preserved.
Copyright © Darshita Joshi | Year Posted 2022
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