I hear a sound, it’s the train.
It roars through hills, valleys, and plane.
It gives me back the misplaced memories, the old;
Lost in dream of past, what have I sold?
The gray hair of mother is in my mind.
Father’s face wasn’t shrinking when I left him behind.
The unrelenting time seems like a game.
The playing here and there has cost my name.
Being apart, I am called brave.
My inside uproar makes me slave.
I gaze at the pictures, take a glance.
Reminiscence has flown away, I give up chance.
First baby, then a child, now I’m mid-age.
I remember when warmth was in the page.
It will come a day that I lose hope.
When mom and dad die, how will I cope?
The tears of missing ooze.
Imagining not to hear the news.
The sky in the sea was blue.
Green was spring color…
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