I can hear the antique
Whisper out its name
I can smell the antique
Wafting out its fame

Lying discarded, neglected
Sitting silently in a corner
Ruing its past glory
Completely lost, a loner

Yet the pride remains
Of a long glorious past
A time of bravery and valour
A period turned to dust

Holding the piece, I wonder
When my time shall come
When I shall lie unnoticed
Stranded, deserted, abandoned

The antique now speaks to me
In a voice loud and clear
Do not dwell in the past
Nor anticipate the future

Live your life here and now
Enjoying every minute
For who knows when
You shall become an antique

Subir Chakraborty / 8th Feb 2018