Sparrow Of Memories...


Old days sometimes
Appear at odd times
Like a sparrow from faraway land
Perched on the windowsill of my mind


A smile crosses my lips
Seeing it there
Waiting for me to feed it
Memories wait
To become part of the present

I sit down, pen in hand
Scribble something,
Cry a few tears
Laugh a few laughters
Close the book and then walk away

The sparrow then flies away
Back to where it came from
Only to return on some other day!

Books by Arti Honrao

Depression is REAL

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