THE Stroll

As she takes a stroll,

a stroll down the memory lane,

she walked passed a shabby man.

In his ragged clothes, he looked liked filth.

His gazing eyes, there were questions in it.

His face seemed familiar, she thought;

The questions were for her, she understood.

As she walked further,

a little further down the memory lane.

She saw a burial place, and a tombstone with a name.

She tried to read, read the name.

But when she could, she stood crestfallen.

Today she took a path that was forgotten.

She found answers to all her questions.

Age hazed all her memories,

Six decades it took, six decades for a stroll back in her twenties.

Murky memories are what she is left with ,

A road not taken, a retreated step.

Too many things left behind.

A dream unfulfilled, a wish not granted,

a life she couldn’t live, a love that was lost;

And at 80 she can’t even clearly recall it.


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