Morning Opening With Memories Poem by Jayita Bhattacharjee

Written on the grounds is a story of light,
Of verses woven yet buried too deep,
For the world to uncover the unknown tale,
Of those bygone times, left in the woodlands of past.
In awe am I, in this hour of silence,
Remembering the tale that lay
beneath the snow-clad grounds.
Those fields of frost now became
the fields of light.
That dimmed the flame of a budding heart,
And dulled the frolic play of youth.

All grow old and decay with time,
The bud that flowers in the rising morn,
Bends its head in a sullen sorrow,
For the petals droop in the waning light.
A bud that didn't get the time to unfold
A joy so killed as frost filled the breeze.
A young bud failed to open up to the world,
Now leaves a story untold in the air.

A scent so deep, hidden between the pages,
In silence remains, its words unread,
But deep in the grounds, down in the roots,
the scent is held of the forgotten bud.
As yesterday arrives with faltering footsteps
To unfurl the remains of what is left,
the memories of laughter and gaze,
and suddenly, the morning is opening,
springtime landing and the earth is waking up.

Scent of a heart, held deeply in the bud,
his light held deeply in the grounds,
now peeps into life to tell the world,
though the sun came down, yet the tale remains.
There blooms his light, as a cheery daffodil,
the spillage of gold from all that remains.




....Jayita Bhattacharjee