Like a child fondling her/his dolls
it is my pastime fondling
my memories whenever I feel
lonely and bored to death.
During such moments
to wriggle out of the
clutches of boredom
I turn the keys of the
dolls of my memories
with which I often
identify myself with.
Laughing dolls, weeping dolls
singing dolls, dancing dolls
the list is endless.
In the spacious hall of my mind
memories get piled up keeping no order.
‘Remembrance of things past’
is like an elixir in my moments of monotony.
Memories often play hide and seek game
throwing me a challenge of
“catch me if you can”.
My dolls of memories
are a treasure trove to me,
the more they pile up
the more delighted I am
even though a big chunk of them
makes me feel like
crying or agonizing.
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