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Memory martyr
#WritcoPoemPrompt16
The pages of my old book,
Hold my memories of yesterday,
Every smile, every tear,
Every person who came my way...
are jotted down in the black book.
The black book tiny but holds
more than my memory can.
The memories are jotted down
not for keepsake, or so I may remember them
in days when nostalgia hits.
They are so that , when my memory
like a hard disk crashes down,
this will likely be the backup
that I need to store.
But when I crash down
will I even remember I have a backup?
The pages hold things and feelings
many already martyr to the process.
When I re read those pages,
I feel as if I am peaking into someone's
life and not mine.
Yet the compulsion to write
all the happenings in the book.
The pages of my old book
hold memories of yesterday
that I have long forgotten .
© meerabhansali/theworkingofthesoul
The pages of my old book,
Hold my memories of yesterday,
Every smile, every tear,
Every person who came my way...
are jotted down in the black book.
The black book tiny but holds
more than my memory can.
The memories are jotted down
not for keepsake, or so I may remember them
in days when nostalgia hits.
They are so that , when my memory
like a hard disk crashes down,
this will likely be the backup
that I need to store.
But when I crash down
will I even remember I have a backup?
The pages hold things and feelings
many already martyr to the process.
When I re read those pages,
I feel as if I am peaking into someone's
life and not mine.
Yet the compulsion to write
all the happenings in the book.
The pages of my old book
hold memories of yesterday
that I have long forgotten .
© meerabhansali/theworkingofthesoul
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