Walk
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August 15, 2023
Contest : W Words
Sponsored by : Constance La France
“When the birds leave the nest to fly in another sky,
the feathers they leave become memory” - Quote by Poet
I built a nest for them so together we could stay,
kept it warm in the winter nights of frost and cold,
no sweeping storm of strife could ever blow it away,
where I held them in my tender wings’ sheltered fold.
They grew up nurtured in the cradle of care,
learned to build and face life in the chosen way,
the loving process with them I could affably share,
the passing parental joy lasted until they flew away.
The cherished bond turns into frail strands of memory,
entwined with the feathers they leave, I forget to cry.
In the residual time I weave the mental tapestry,
and to retain their fading faces in its motif I try.
A lone traveler at the edge of the twilight I sorely sigh,
with the descending desolateness in the nest I talk.
In the memory mirror the lost dreams I descry,
as toward the obscurity the last mile I walk.
Copyright © Subimal Sinha-Roy | Year Posted 2023
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