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Dust Of Time…

Brushing the dust of time,
Here I climbed the stairs,
To my attic…
Things forgotten,
Memories faded,
Dreams scattered.
Could somethings be salvaged?
The pictures also lost its color.
Maybe they could be restored.
I can hear those laughs,
Those whispers and giggles…
I have saved them all,
In my book of memories…
They stay there forever,
Never lose their charm and color…


© 2012 Pimmi Nag