Hands of time

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The curtains dance, flutter and blush,

the breeze continues to caress.

The sun-kissed trees sway to the music,

sharing the ethereal joy of the unknown.

The pale sky watches over patiently,

her army of clouds wave white flags.

Calmness settles over every zephyr

leaving behind sweet nothings of prehistoric times.

Of days in dense inviting forests,

of free-roaming wild creatures.

Of gushing rivers and mesmerizing seas,

of smiling faces and hard-working hands.

Of times when paper was never money

but a scroll a lover wrote his wife.

Of times when cloth was only cover,

never worn to hide ‘self’.

Of times when no walls cocooned minds,

from freedom and nomadic voyages.

Of times when every comrade

was always just around the corner.

Of times when wood and smoke

destined old stories and camp-fires.

Of times when trees and water was life –

beating as one with you and I.

When every eye looked deep into yours,

reassuring, of today, and what it holds –

Never letting the hands of time

invite the unyielding Tomorrow,

that only steals, and never gives!

Picture Credit: Kaushik Bajibab

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