The Memoirs

The Memoirs of forgotten times
sweet times from a gone age
That opens up unhealed wounds
Bleeding again with the pain
Oh…
Its not wound skin deep..
Wounds are deep inside Heart
Pain that passes along the spine
Drops that forms in the eyes
A weep that is caught in Throat
Those Colorful Feathers From a Dream
Shades of sorrow and Lighting smiles
The voice that was a lullaby once
Nothing left, but memoirs live
Yes, These are my memoirs
The Memoirs of Forgotten Times
1/05/08

Poems and articles by Dr Haroon Ashraf ©

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