I am all alone…
but my eyes aren’t;
don’t they have those tears with them?
Some which my foes gifted me with,
Some which my friends hurt me with…?

I am all alone…
but my ears aren’t;
don’t they have those voices with them?
Some which I wish to forget
Some which I will never think of forgetting…?

I am all alone…
but my hands aren’t;
don’t they still have the touch on them?
The touch of my elders’ feet when I touched them,
The touch when I closed my face when I was touched…?

I am all alone…
but my deeds aren’t;
don’t they still have those opinions of mine with them?
I think some were correct, I think some were wrong,
I think and think, with no chance left to correct them…?

I am all alone…
but my words aren’t;
don’t they have my feelings with them?
Every word of mine has feelings with it,
But every feeling of mine need not come with words…

With me, I have my words, my deeds, my tear-filled eyes…
My ears, my hands and also…
those memories…

The memories of those tears
The memories of those voices
The memories of those ups and those downs
The memories of those decisions

How am I alone then…?
don’t I have my memories with me…?
…atleast…the memories…

preeti2