The Lullaby

The sea

is hungry

for the life

that escaped

its grasp.

Its claws,

reach out

to reclaim

its lost,

wayward flock.

Its deep

watery womb

yearns for

the lost, land lust 
driven brood.

Till then

it sings in
their memory,

a sweet

melancholic lullaby.

The Attic

Sometimes, I take a stroll,
up the attic of my memories.

There, lying long forgotten,
lie the instances of my life.

A sight here, a fragrance there.
Mementos from my journeys.

Slowly fading into obscurity,

gathering dust, unattended.

When I pick them up lovingly,
they come back to life, shining.

And instantly, I am transported.
To the ‘there’. In the ‘then’.

Nothing is for forever, really.
But what is, is ours, forever.