Maudlin Confessions

Sometimes I don’t invite, but melancholia,

And maudlin arrive at my soul’s dwelling,

Taking me back much back in time, where,

A better part of me is still lying quiet,

Seldom keeps my soul wandering there in,

 The past lanes, to steal some moments from,

That little girl who still chirps and giggles,

Wearing those frocks which swirls to her,

Naive moves, she walks past me holding,

Her mother’s a hand, a young beautiful lady,

In her thirties, I watch them disappear like,

A mute observer, whose lips are stitched,

I begged her once to give me some glee,

To take away with me, seemed I annoyed,

The little girl, and so I came back again,

Empty handed, it was her share not mine,

She without words pointed her finger,

And I looked behind, some blurred faces,

Perhaps the present for me, and her future,

She told me through her mute expressions,

Let me stay here forever, and touched my,

Heart, tears were flowing from my eyes,

I couldn’t bring any moment to lie in my,

Abode, and today standing in front of the,

Mirror as a woman, I have myriad emotions,

Locked inside my chest, and I make,

Hush confessions to the truth I noticed,

My reflection is still alike that little girl........................

*Monalisa Joshi*