Old Time
When the time gets old
It will be a companion
Of mirrored memories.
The casting of young spell,
The creases of smile
All crumpled and dimpled
In the face of old time.
When the memory wall
Fades in color,
The desire to recollect
Will be young.
The emblems and the
Ruins of the vast measure of sky
Will be a studied eye
To worship creation.
Life isn’t too generic to talk about,
Only because it passes.
An architect of choice
Catches a ball of freedom.
No answers obey the strict rules,
Never to preach
Once the trodden path sets its way;
Never to not flow.
Copyright Sushant Thapa
Biratnagar-13, Nepal
Oh, I love this…” When the time gets old…….face of old time.”….It’s beautiful, lucid and mature. And for me, this poem has truly synced poetry and philosophy together. For the first time, I am so clear about my own interpretation that I can visualize myself at the age of 70 plus and it’s so palpable, man got gooes bumps, picturing myself at that age….Bravo my boy, bravo….❤️