Past

The mansion of past holds
Windows of memories
Through which we constantly
Switch between present and the past.
Curtains of unspoken and unexpressed feelings
Which always hid the real us.
Floors of bitter experiences
Walking through which we got clear ways.
Ceilings of the heartwarming incidents
Which always comforted us from the rains of distress.
Walls of portraits with people we adored
And who brought the brightest colors to our lives.
Furniture of the comfort we shared
With known and unknown people we met.
Living room of the lively interactions we once had
Which kept us going for a long time.
Gallery of the unseen and missed out events
Which we badly wanted to happen.
Veranda of special space
We occupied in some people's heart.
Pathways of sweet gestures by others
Which connected them to us for ever.
Doors of the rigidity we follow
To restrict ourselves from
Visiting unwanted memories that hurt.
Gate of the virtual boundaries boundary that separates
Present from the past
And allows every moment to enter
As soon as it ceases to be a thing of present.
And finally the Garden of priceless moments we spent
Which we never wanted to end.

The more of these luxuries
In the house of the past we have
The more rich
As a human being we are.

But the past house is after all
Nothing more than an outhouse
To the new house which we move in
And refer to as present.