Flashback - Pen
In childhood,
Grasped that pen,
Perhaps destined
To mark some numbers.
Some stars, some sights,
some flowers and butterflies
Some mountains, some waterfalls,
Some jungles, some rivers.
A song full of pain,
A moment of love,
An unfamiliar touch,
A sandalwood body.
A forgotten, distant voice,
A broken instrument.
Some joy, some sorrow,
Writing the tale of life.
Today, once again, eyes are moist,
In childhood,
Grasped that pen...
Poet - Indukant Angiras
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