MEMORY, A THING OF PAST

My child,

This faded green leaves,

Brightness of this blue tiles,

Loneliness of this tower,

Is not what you are.

You are your memory.

When things become memory,

At the moment of its creation,

It won't feel like losing grip

It feels like the tight clutch.

We may not feel the transition

We feel like a normal day.

We can't accept the beautiful

tidings are not meant for tomorrows

We cannot let them join past.

But when we hold on them,

they miss the chance of

Becoming an everlasting memory.

They can't come with us

And join our tomorrows.

It becomes a wound, a weight.

Leave it, let yesterday embrace it.

Cherish it, the memory.

It is gone 

It is lost.

It won't come back.

It is a memory,

A THING OF PAST!