Memory

Some whims stick to the ego
The fetish with memory for me.
Childhood bruises form my blue
Mercurochrome red
And greenery is my dirty sock.
Other colours converge in the shutters of the window
Where tongues of sunlight lick it gold.

I cling on to my craving for a piece of shadow
Away from the halo of love
Solitude lulls me to bliss;
A room of my own to hide that smile
That slipped out once
To be torn away and thrown away
And a teen-age girl would just moan away
Away… away… away…
The breeze was kissing
Yes. That’s the breeze I know.

The friendship bands still fill a desk
Friendships melt with candyfloss.
The ink stained scarf was never wet
The cheeks never pink with youthful blush
Yet I touched the moon with a softer glance
Than the ball I see today.

Memory paints my picture bright
For nothing is right or wrong.
Call it fret; I won’t disrupt
It can’t be ever gone.
The breeze will blow my reckless hair
The girl still lies alone
And strike a chord,
There’s still the moan.