My Poetry 'From the pages of the past'
On the old pages,
Of an old book,
I drove finger today
Know where some slow
Voices came from,
A familiar voice,
Voices few years old
A laugh was coming from
Far away, reverberated.
How many things,
Did that voice know,
What has happened
It said something strange.
A music breaks down
The silence of old,
Some questions arise,
In such a way, as any child
Awake from sleep
The exhausted ashes,
Of old petals were frozen
In that book, a suppressed,
Withered 'Rose' was speaking
Holding my hand, it smiled.
Began to take on
Any of the beaten paths,
Thinking it shook my hand
I Closed the book,
And shut its mouth too.
- Image Source - Pixabay
