I am still recovering from a bug I’ve caught in the last few days, but these words kept playing over and over in my head all day. This poem is about how our lives are built upon little moments and stories we have collected over the years.
I’ve always thought about the idea of our lives being a big mosaic of stories, moments, and memories. We are so much more than just the life we have lived, and that is one of the most fascinating things to ever be.
Happy reading! Xx
Yet another piece left behind,
Yet another stolen for keeps,
I take souvenirs from places I’ve been,
Leave behind a part of me—
And I wish I were whole,
But I have too much of others
To call myself so,
Every piece I’ve taken
Cherished,
And countless more I’ve let go.
I carry stories with me
From places that stole my heart,
But none were mine to keep,
They seem worlds apart,
No bridging the gap between,
I’m burning fire
And the stories, calming sea,
But for once,
I only wish
I could keep a part of them with me.
I’ve met people young and old,
Each, a different mystery,
I forget faces from long ago,
But their stories stay with me,
I’d live a hundred lives,
But they were never mine,
Never belonged to me—
I am only one story
With pages being written,
One I wonder anyone would read.
~© Shubhangi Srinivasan.
Featured Image by Denise Jans on Unsplash
The Shubhster Diaries 
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