Yesterday is never forgotten.
It lies on dust-laced shelves
ready to be dressed in
fond remembrance,
a box shoved under
an unmade bed
where all my memories
have been neatly organized.
Tomorrow is always anticipated.
It is hope suspended in air
where all I do is linger
patiently awaiting its arrival,
an expectant breeze
reached out for
but somehow it
relentlessly evades my grasp.
But yesterday’s nostalgia
and tomorrow’s promise
are split in half by
today’s sorrows.
This so-called present
packaged by Time:
the wreckage created
when past and future collide.
sometimes i feel like this. nice poem. hope you will see my poems too.
wish you best of luck.
Dr. Zayed Bin Zakir Shawon