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!
