Walking down the seaside..
I feel everyone behind me..
Their footprints etched in sand..
Impressions of the memories left behind..
Each footprint a beautiful memoir..
Each a world in itself...
Absorbed in the memories. .
I try to relive each of them..
But the waves have their own way. .Wash away each of the prints..
I plead to the lashing waves not to take them away..
I beg...I shout.. I plead..
I tell them that I can't live without them...
But without even glancing at me...the waves take away what was supposed to be mine...leaving me alone..just with a handful of sand slipping away from my fingers...


  1. A beautiful one (y) . May the waves wash away each print, but the memory of the same always remain with us in some or the other form & travels with us not only for a birth but series of that. Isnt it?


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