VIOLIN...

After ages I hold,
My fingers getting cold.
I was shivering,
Felt frosty air playing.
After ages I hold the bow...

Tighten the bow,
So the air started to blow.
Rosin the bow,
So the sky began to glow.
After ages I hold the bow...

I hold the violin,

where memories are to spin.

I played the string,

And memories were what they bring.

After ages I hold the bow...

Every musical note it created,

Your name was what,

They penned,

In the scattered pieces of life.

After ages I hold the bow...

Utmost pleasure it was,

Or was it depth sea of sorrow.

Answer was not with me,

All was smile with tears.

After ages I hold the bow...

I kept playing,

writting your name with the bow,

Over the violin,

Life was so kin.

After ages I hold the bow...

With every melody it fostered,

I could see those memories,

Dancing with joy,

Playing with feelings of mine.

After ages I hold the bow...

Neither I could stop,

As it brought buried memories alives,

Nor I would chase more,

It was breaking left over broken me.

After ages I hold the bow...

After ages I hold the you...

After ages I hold the bow...

                                           -Poulami Deb (poulamishomedeb@gmail.com)