Twice lost

Should we not speak of the past
Just because we know it is past
Not listen to old songs
Because they are old
When like magic wands
They unlock doors to times
Only we know exist and will die
When we too turn into memory
The singer and the actor are dead
The one who composed the song too
Even father who took us to the film
When films did not come to us
Happy songs turn sad with time
For the sadness they now evoke
Of the losses they remind us of
Of the childhood lost twice over
Then lost forever.

Hope

Our little home is lit
With little else but hope
Even when there is little
To feed the little flame
That has fought like a fern
Gales that felled giants
Not meant to fall
The little flame knows
The hand that lit it
Had little else to go on
What is hope but
A flower that blooms
In the darkness
The sliver of horizon
The fisherman sees
The bird cry that hints
At the shore
The little flame
That feeds on darkness
Lights the way home
The little flame goes far
What hopes to reach,
Reaches the farthest.

Distance

How far is far, where
Distance can be measured
How far is far where
Distance is of another measure
Where the happy moments
Are not shared, where
There is no whisper
Of the unhappy ones
Where both pretend
The sun is lukewarm
The wind is even
The days are good
The nights so good
That one doesn't wake
In between to catch
The night awake;
The far is really far
Where the words hide,
And the silences are longer
Between the words.