He tucked his child in bed to sleep
In the still of the silent night
He yawned, but he had work to do
Office chores by the night lamp’s light
When from the corner of his weary eyes
A stowed away box he spied
He inched his way towards it
Swept decades of dust off its side
In mild curiosity it was opened
And these were the box’s contains:
Picture albums in black and white
Snippets of past, childhood’s remains.
The 40 year old gazed at himself
Locked in mother’s embrace
Twelve years old, young, carefree
Now a tear rolled down his face
He turn the page and stared
His heart heavier as he went on
The days with his own family
Those beautiful days were gone.
He close his eyes; before him flashed
The day which held the most regret
At 19, he had left his parents
Whom he had sworn to forget.
From a distance came a voice
“Daddy?” he heard his princess say
He yearned she’d never leave her papa
Like he abandoned his one day.
“I’m coming my love,” he smiled
Giving her soft hand a little squeeze
The lights came off and he slept,
Remembering that box of memories.
Tapasmi 