A Song For All My Yesterdays... Poem by Rince Wind

I turn the pages of the album with pictures in matt and gloss
some stare at me in awe, while some look at me
like the long fallen leaves gawping at the tree
which now stands a foot tall
made of memories, both desired and denied, we all are

So here I am, on a warm winter evening, writing a song
a song for all my yesterdays...

Childhood is a dream, we all see when we grow-up
to be a child in which we don't believe
for the moments of innocence are many
and will haunt us for whenever we will let our hearts be free
like the kites and dragon-flies we left behind,
but for the habit of chasing what we don't need

So here I am, on a warm winter evening, writing a song
a song for all my yesterdays...

Like many things, love too came in life uncalled for
knowing her was knowing me, thought I,
unaware of the world that passed by
but life has its own humor, of which we try to make sense of
for I believed love had ways to figure out its own course,
until she taught me to let go

So here I am, on a warm winter evening, writing a song
a song for all my yesterdays...

Looking back is a silly thing to do, they say
perhaps they are right... perhaps they are just afraid
but traveled in my mind for long I have,
and I will, picking up astray memories
to heal my soul on one warm winter evening
when everything else betrays, people in their own chaos move away
and forgotten dreams on a cold platter of time'll lay

I will have a song...
a song for all my yesterdays...