Shriyandhaa's space

Click.  Click. Click. As the subtle sounds of the phone's keyboard  Click away to form a silent rhythm, And as I write this very poem, My eyes droop further, with the unexpectedly  Melodic song played by the keyboard And as my mind strays to every corner  To look for better adjectives to write down, It gets more tired, preparing to throw in the  Towel And I now decide to cut it short  As my mom's voice sounds, calling me for sleep, And my eyes fall to their last, before which  One last peep, Good night, poem, incomplete, imperfect, yet  (in my opinion) Neat.

  I see, I hear, I smell, Long lost fragrants of a memory  Yielding wonderful spirits, that I wish still existed, Dreams that I wish were still alive, Endless laughter and love gone by. Yet, it provokes, a feeling of bitter loneliness, Sweetness left to crumble alone, Even if it was supposed to imply aged joy, Yes, I felt a tinge of nostalgic dejection nearby. Yes, it was not from the memory, but it was from me, Envying my younger self, who spent every moment with glee, Every echo of the past something that will last, Tears flowing down my cheeks. Still, I miss the mirth from years before  Even though I've found a new sort of happiness  Still I wish everything was as of past  Try so hard not to lose my self in reveries again. Nevertheless, I will always wonder Rather about how things changed than why Yet I never find a satisfactory answer and Definitely, I will always stop by my cherished, older memories.

  An echo from the past, that continues to echo, But is not heard, amidst the other conundrum, Conundrum it is; an array of diverse memories, Dressed up in assorted attires of spirits each. Even though it knows it's not heard, For long does that one memory continue to reverberate, Growing louder and louder until I found out, Heard that single ripple and dug deep. Inside, I found, a beautiful collection, Jarring, childish, but immaculate all the same, Kites that fly beneath my range of sight Long lost memories, waiting to be re-discovered. My, did I lose myself in the huge labyrinth Never did I feel like waking up from my reveries  Once I did, I found myself wishing, wishing  Pleading to myself to reinstate everything to the past. Quaint is what I am; I'm clingy about the past, Resting in aged laughter and love is what I do, So don't, don't judge me; True, it's just my way of showing I miss old times.