The old memories of mine
Do prick me everytime.
Sometimes making me laugh, and sometimes.....
Making my time a sad time.
The good and bad moments of my past,
I know, shall never come back.
But I think it the least useless
Upon them, my head to wrack.
On the base of my past,
Stands the building of my present.
But the base cannot be placed on top,
Then why do its memories prick my heart??
__Söuvick
(i had written this poem when i was in class 9).
Wednesday, 30 June 2010
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