2/100: On Time

Time, for me, is a house to live in

Built in air perhaps,

A bit crowded too, with all people of the past

But one I can't get out of.



Time is also my dear old friend,

Like a suitcase that travels along,

With all photos and moments, and a familiar smell,

One I can't ever get rid of.



Time feels like a running train

I was let in without a pass,

I have to get off when it stops

But there may still be a long way to go.



Then, time is the place I go to,

To become a bunch of moments perhaps,

And to end up in someone else's suitcase,

May be her, who loved me.

Comments

Neha Gupta said…
Morning Glory ?!
.. part of a "traveller's" journey I suppose.

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