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Beneath All That Cobweb

Grandmother’s chest in the attic,        

Waiting for someone to come near her

Ears strained to hear the known footsteps

Vision blurred with cobwebs, but her spirit is not

May be there is something for you in there may be not,

But how will you know if you don’t reach out to it?

A quilt and some handkerchiefs

A world of soft cotton and lace

Hope and warmth embroidered in each one

May be you will find solace in them may be not

But how will you know if you don’t embrace them?

Some old wrinkled and some neatly packed clothes

They have more deals and tales

Than any book or shop

The soothing whiff of love, comforting whispers

Maybe you will find them enlightening may be not

But how will you know if you don’t let them express?

At the corner of the chest are some old memories

Some letters gone yellow; some brown

Some old pictures; of a naughty little girl on a swing

Of a free spirited woman before and after her marriage

Oh! the beautiful carefree past and their echoes

Maybe you will find some mantra in them maybe not

But how will you know if you don’t ask?

Hope, love, warmth, inspiration and some surprises in store

The old neglected chest can be full all this and more

An old set of dentures desperate to share her story

An old eye glass full of wisdom

This may be your lucky day may be not

You may find something valuable, may be not

But how will you know….

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About Soma Mukherjee

I often say things that put me in a jam, Jams go well with Buttered Toasts, Toasts are great hosts, Ghosts not so much, Although they can dance, Not all dancers are serial killers, Serial killers do not use Body bags that often, body bags aren't leak proof, Proof is in the Pudding.

13 responses »

  1. Reblogged this on बंजारा and commented:
    I have gone through this poem by Somkritya many times and it gives the same lovely feeling every time. All the memories come alive. ‘May be there is something for you in there may be not,

    But how will you know if you don’t reach out to it?

    Reply
  2. Sometimes we see old and don’t bother but when we take to time it investigate and make time we learn and discover so much. Wonderful piece!

    Reply
  3. Raven of Leyla

    A charmed poem, love it!
    Rx

    Reply
  4. Pingback: My 7×7 Link award « somkritya

  5. An excellent poem as expected by you.

    Reply
  6. Its alovely poem,brining back all the memories of childhood. Thanks for writing this poem.

    Reply
  7. Thanks Dada
    Debarati- Thanks babe, my grandma used to have this huge chest full of things,and all though we knew what was inside, every summer we would make plan a grand theft for the Patali gud,marie biscuits and even khatti meethi goli..it was real fun,and she used to tell so many stories

    Reply
  8. never stayed with a grandmother (one was dead even before I was born and one was away who I met every year for 2 days)… but I had my maternal grandfather living with us and he had a big black trunk. It smelled of Mysore Sandalwood soap… and cantharidene hair oil ….your poetry brought back so many memories….

    Reply
  9. Good One – Languages I speak- humour(fluent) humanity(world) silent treatments(alot)

    Reply

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