Thursday, March 26, 2009

who knows

the nostalgia of those pavements
the worn out nostalgia of those worn out pavements
the sweet pain of this nostalgia
the timeless melancholy of those pavements
who knows who walks those pavements now
hand in hand or heaves a sigh or
throws away a page torn from a diary
hesitantly on those pavements
a page scribbled with a hundred I love you's
who knows if the page flutters aimlessly or
someone stoops to pick it up who knows
the thought of those pavements
the harsh murmur of those pavements
the loud noise of those pavements
who knows how the breeze blows
how the sun sets on those pavements now
the littered memories on those pavements
the trodden years on those pavements
who knows who walks those pavements now
whether their shadows lengthen too in the afternoons
the solitude of those pavements after dark
do the pavements too remember the ceaseless echo
of some footsteps the thoughts of those steps
do you remember how we walked those pavements
do you remember
do you know what remembering is


Roxana said...

hi, kubla - instead of words, I thought I'd better share this picture with you, I had to remember it after reading your poem which resounds so intensly inside me. like lost steps on the worn-out pavement of memory.

Kubla Khan said...

hi, Roxana Thanks for the link. somehow, i can only see the pavements of memory, not the feet.that would be an injustice, but is justice enough?
btw, my pavements are real.