I Sew Memories Poem by abu tarek md tahsin

Fragments of wind
breaks through the fields
as i sit beneath
the white sycamore tree


i am not old
but
i sew memories

one at a time
i close my eyes
and you it is
i find

it is spring time
upon the end of my life
and as i heave
my breath
catches a distant cold

my lungs wants to
break free
from the body it holds

my eyes
play tricks
and my hearing
hears nonsense

but i am
not old

nor the memories
that politely
knock at my soul.