With great resistance,
I opened the time forgotten chest,
Rusted and worn out,
The old box held memories firmly in its nest.

It appeared from a different age,
Discolored notes,
Broken memoirs,
As if set for a different stage.

I was reluctant to stir those pensive times,
The suppressed bereavement,
Hesitant to defrost the old rime.

My curiosity still led me to ruffle the treasures,
My anxieties were so muddled it was hard to measure,
Off went the lid,
And the long-held creed,
The pulsating heart,
Emotions hard to impede.

Then I saw the shades of some impish smile,
The guffaws and the ingenious guile.

The memories came gushing,
Like an endless deluge,
The sudden paroxysms,
reminiscence fresh and crude.

I stood there holding to abandoned dreams,
The nostalgic moments,
The bygone scenes,
every oppressed desire,
Surged back so strong,
I surrendered to the moment,
And that’s where I belonged.

Copyright © Shantanu Baruah