Old pages

If I would say ideas are just resting on the mind floor, and I need to pick them and write. I think in that case it would be a palpable lie. Ideas come sometimes suddenly, and you never know when it might happen. This weekend when I was arranging the things in my room, I came across some pages. Those pages are very old, even I didn’t remember how they have reached so far. When I looked on them more profoundly I recognized the small patches of some incidents. I wonder so often why some things are so attached to us, and they can come so far along with you. Like today I am pondering about these old pages, still don’t know what kind of relation we share. But I know anyways there is something common between us, might be a story and we both are trying to find out that similarity.

How much are you known to me?

Dark encrypted words on you and yours yellow attire,

Feels like you are a golden crown embedded with the blue sapphire,

It seems sometimes those sapphires are just not yours, also encrypted deep in my heart,

Whatever you have, it’s not yours only also my part,

The smell you carry, yours fold and unfold sound,

Sometimes I feel I can’t move anywhere without you,

Because it seems we are on the same ground,

Sometimes I feel life is moving so fast,

What I have today, that won’t be a part of tomorrow anymore,

But I wonder how you carry everything, present, past and future, all the folders,

And you never do any complain, you carry them happily on your shoulders,

Sometimes you gave me a bit of surprise from your side,

When it comes to the matter of age, and your desire to live longer,

I got the impression that you might have something secret,

I never understood what it is either it was,

What have made you to take the darkness, why so engross?

I am leaving my search here, and rest is up to you,

But you can continue, as you prefer, as you do.