I sit by the burnt red wooden frame,
As the world outside my window
is draped in an unusual haze.

Folding my arms,
now almost as fragile as glass,
but which once held the quill that made headlines around the world.

I close my eyes, brown as hazelnut
Trying to go back to when my years were younger.
Dreams whisper softly through the mind’s maze
For I am a traveler searching for what was lost in the labyrinth of days. 

A memory comes, but faintly,
A golden hue at the edge of dusk
In the snow-covered mountains, in freezing temperatures
A soft tug at my knitted sweater.

The kids, jumping with excitement, said, ‘Grammpa, tell us about that dragon!’
Their laughter is muffled,
like gentle waves hitting the shore
I can feel there was joy, but alas, the mind remembers no more.

A caressing palm is felt on my shoulder
A sapphire glimmering on its ring finger
I look up to see the love of my life
Sharing a hug which lasts forever.

The vows we took, the lilies in her hair,
Are a souvenir of her purity, her innocence.
Her warmth like the shade during a scorching day,
I feel her presence, though her name slips away.

Then comes summer, and I throw a girl in the air,
She flings her arms and giggles to no end.
Then the words come out of the happiest author,
And I said, “You’re my most special daughter.”

Another venture down the lane
To a rebellious male in his years of teenage,
A fire flashes, a football field and a fight,
Faces are blurred, but he remembers
That victory was seized then, in the dead of night.

Suddenly, I see a small boy
Running barefoot till where the earth meets the sky
To find the greatest treasure hidden by his elder brother.

The scent of rain on the damp, wet ground,
The gushing wind carrying his mother’s sound
But her beautiful lullaby fades away, strand by strand.
Like sand through the fingers of an immortal’s hand.

The past retreats,
But memories skip one too many beats
Though I recall a life most vibrant,
My heart is a lost soul on an island.

A salt tear rolls from the same brown eyes,
The pain of letting go refusing to subside,
When a woman comes through the door
Kneels down and brushes away my sorrow. 

She says,
“When life begins to blur, one truth shall always remain
Your golden laughter, the love and the happiness we made.
Even if the fog thickens, these moments will last,
For the heart remembers what the mind may miss.”

“Thankyou dear, but who are you?” asks the puzzled author
And she responds, “Pops, I’m your most special daughter.”