The postcard

The postcard

The last edge crammed with words,memories,

Even as the ink fades

Trains caught, things left behind, loves lost, joys found

Bits and pieces of a lifetime, recorded haphazardly , momentarily

Witness,to smiles, sighs, laughter, tears

A postcard, refreshes a yellowing memory.

--shubha 

P.S This short poem came to me in response to a prompt of a photograph of an old.15 paise Indian postcard. The poem had to be six lines or less and am happy to share, was selected as one of the winners.

Nostalgia

Nostalgia

It arrived one day, by thought mail,
From the memory store,
At the corner of remembrance road and nostalgia lane,
Often have I searched for this recollection, in vain,
And have longed to be there again,
But perhaps it is best that recollections come ,as they do,
And fleetingly, to beloved places and faces, spirit you,
That otherwise in ring eared albums and minds' cobwebbed crevices they stay,
For life is not lived in yesterdays .

--shubha