THE SQUIRREL:SOMDATTA BHATTACHARYA

I have a hollow,
It's full of nuts and munchies
Not for today,
It's for the harsh winters
And the moist rains.
I have in my hollow many memories
Woven in small things;
Some pieces of torn kites
Some broken marbles
Some letters of unrequited love
A thin gilt ring- the gold gone
Only iron now;
Sign of some promise made long ago
But as promises are meant to be:
Broken.
A photograph, brittle at the touch;
Green with age at the fringes
Some dry rose petals,
Telling tales of bygone days.
Days that are no more
A childhood, lost some years back
A youth drowned in the mirror.
On murky days
The rain sets in-
Some don't have umbrellas
The cold sends shudders down their spine.
I keep these memories handy,
To keep me warm with their fire.

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