Your last journey, dear, on my shoulders now,
Is unlike you, sad, quiet and peaceful
Makes me really wonder why and how
Time can be so hasty and forgetful.
Or maybe I wasn’t really careful,
To withhold the times, we sat by the lake,
And just stuffed in a stolen home-baked cake,
The times when we ran a race to the fair.
I wish I knew the rude turns time could take
I wish I knew when breath would become air!
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Srividya Subramanian is a teacher of English Language and Literature in a reputed school in Chennai. She has been in the field of teaching for the past 14 years and has completed a certificate course in creative writing as well, which is her passion.
Latest posts by Srividya Subramanian (see all)
- Yours Truly, Sasha - 21 Feb 2023
- Journey of the Strong - 16 Feb 2023
- Lost and Found - 24 Jan 2023
