As you flick the gilt-edged pages, one by one,
Flash the images, still vivid and sharp ----
Sun-kissed dews on the lawn, promising morning,
Sweet-scented pages of fairy tales,
Gibbering toddler’s anxious smile,
Colourful pageants, beauty’s grace,
Happy reunions, beaming face,
Peals of laughter, and cheery brouhaha
And many more vignettes of salad days.
Some of the pages are bewilderingly blank.
Where are the shots of somber clouds, you wonder,
Woebegone mourning faces,
Outstretched begging bowl,
Plaintive cries on a chilly night,
Dying soldier’s parting gasp,
Soulless mayhems faith that sap,
Guiles and guises, bludgeoned wishes ?
Seems as if they are removed from the anchors by a stealthy hand
And packed in the basket of oblivion.
I would rather not try to retrieve them.
Some shots are really missing from my album.
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