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Sunday, November 29, 2015

Street Child

Tattered clothes and a bruised face
And looking oh so lost and wild
Orphaned and abandoned by all
He is called merely a street child

He stands all day at the traffic signal
Running from this car window to that
Begging for a glance and a few coins
His small hands outwards spread

Most people shut their ears to his pleas
And others simply avert their eyes
 They sit in those air conditioned cars
That remain symbols of their pride

They do not take in his appearance
Nor hear his futile desperate cries
To avoid him they speed up and leave
Failing to notice his fear and fright

They speed up to warm meals at home
While he begs for little crumbs
No refuge, and without a shelter
He sleeps on footpaths and in slums

He wonders quietly why he got this life
Where he is treated like a rabid dog
Ignored, leading a loveless existence
Feeling like he is the society’s rot

So next time you’re at a traffic signal
Please do give him a tender glance
All he needs is a little love and help
And at life, just another chance

Trust me, just a little help and love
Will for him go a long long way
And that small smile on his face
Will definitely make your day

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Behind Closed Doors

Behind every closed door
Could be a story waiting to unfold
Of sighs that remained unheard
And words rarely spoken or told

There could be moments of laughter
And maybe many secrets kept
Fears, lies, happiness and smiles
And some tears silently wept 

Some people could have lived here
And lead awesome, amazing lives
Or maybe it was just a dismal place
That was full of sadness and cries

Whenever I gaze at a closed door
So much does my imagination see
I wonder if there’s a lost soul inside
Reaching out with its story for me

So yes, behind every closed door
Could be a story waiting to be told
All it needs is someone to unlock it
And to share, relive it, and unfold

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Saturday, November 07, 2015

Never Judge A Book By Its Cover

Never judge a book
Merely by its cover
For you never know what inside it
You might just discover

The cover may look
Old and sometimes worn
The pages may have yellowed
And sometimes maybe torn

But many untold stories
The book may in it hold
That never have been heard
Nor ever before told

There may be characters
That become your friends
Who will stay with you
Forever till the end

There may be great plots
That keep you mesmerized
Captivating your heart
New emotions may arise

Treat it with respect
And give it a fair chance
Don’t judge it by its looks
Or make opinions in advance

Remember that the words 
Are a writer’s sincere attempt
Do not be so harsh
As to treat it with contempt

So never judge a book
Merely by its cover
For you never know what inside it
You might just discover

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Tuesday, November 03, 2015

Tissue Paper Society

Those old loved landmarks
Each with a memory attached
 All bulldozed and replaced
By new impersonal structures

Those small winding roads 
Where we once took long walks 
On warm summer nights
Are now four lane highways

Those pretty small shops
Filled with colorful knick knacks
That we often browsed through
Replaced with city malls

Those friends we depended on
Now strangers we cannot connect with
Stuck in the games of social status
Wary, distant, cloaked in formalities

Those relationships that were
The roots of our existence
 Now discard us, only to replace
With newer ones that change day/night

Welcome to this new 
Weird, Unemotional
Disposable, use and throw 
Tissue paper society

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Tuesday, October 13, 2015

The Rag Picker

He silently walks the streets at night
With a slightly hunched back
And stops near every garbage pile
With his dirty old tattered sack

Potato peels he pushes aside
Dry flowers he does not need
He comes across a limp dry carrot
On which his child can feed

He sees some plastic bottles
And a couple of polythene bags
He quietly picks and stores them
Along with a few soiled rags

The street dogs bark and chase him
He flees so scared and lost
Until he comes to another dump
Where he once again quietly stops

This hunt goes on all night long
As he roams alleys and dumping sites
Calmly accepting his lifestyle
Along with his sorry state and plight

He remains on the periphery of our world
And struggles each night to survive
Forever remains unnoticed by all
Leading a rag picker’s life

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Friday, October 09, 2015

The Evergreen Tree

My love is like 
An evergreen tree
Whatever the current
Season may be
The harshest of winters
Or scorching summers
The raw autumns
Or the lovely springs
It adapts, overcomes
And survives them all
It flourishes, grows
And stands forever tall

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Wednesday, October 07, 2015

Magical Night Sounds

I love the distant sound of trains. It takes me back in time. I remember the summer nights at my in-laws place in my hometown. Mine was a joint family and I remember how every night we would all sleep on the roof top. I loved sleeping on the rooftop. The cool breeze, the night sounds and the gazing at the stars..

Nights have sounds of their own, that distant sound of a horn, crickets chirping, the whistle of a train, the random bark of a stray dog, and yes, the hushed whispers of the neighbours. But most of all, I loved the sound of the late night train. There was something magical about that sound. Romantic and nostalgic.

I would lie there and wonder where the train was going, who all would be on it, I would imagine reunions and partings. Tears and laughter.  Each night I would lose myself in a different story that my mind would come up with. For me, It represented a romantic vision of the unknown.

Even today, when I hear the sound of a distant whistle of a train, It brings a smile to my face. The sound, the vibrations, it is all so reminiscent of a wonderful past..

Tuesday, October 06, 2015


Sometimes, the mere smell of a perfume, or the scent of a certain flower, or hearing an old song, or passing by certain places, or seeing an old photograph makes the mind pause, stop and wander down memory lane..

I have always been an extremely sentimental person. There are certain things I’m very attached to,   little mementos from my past that I can never dream of parting with. They may not have any monetary value and they would probably look like worthless junk to other people, but for me they are precious and represent the times that were.

I do understand that not all memories are good ones but as the years go by the bad ones lose their negative aspects and get distorted and hazy while the good ones get even more glorified than what the reality was..but regardless of that, the warm fondness for that era remains an important part of my life.

I have been feeling especially nostalgic lately. I often think back to the days that were and find comfort in those thoughts. Hearing songs from the 60s and 70s is now a reminder of people, places and emotional attachments. Some might laugh or be embarrassed by talking about their past or recalling the days gone by, but for me the past represents the simpler times, it made me who I am today. Each moment a lesson.

I love the feeling of nostalgia. This mixture of happiness and sadness. The whiff of a perfume, a glide of the fingertips across some item, a lovely soulful song, or a faded picture can invoke such strong memories that come flooding back. .all coupled with the strong desire and the aching in the heart to return to that time in the past..


Saturday, October 03, 2015

Downpour Of Memories

Word after word
Pages get drenched
Downpour of memories

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Wednesday, September 30, 2015


आदत पड़ गयी है सबको 
मुखौटों में रहने की 
असली चेहरा दिख जाए 
तो लोग बुरा मान जाते हैं...

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Monday, September 28, 2015

Let Some Wishes Remain Unfulfilled

Why do people always send greetings with the words "I hope all your dreams come true" ? For some reason I find it weird..

Yes, it is always a pleasant feeling when wishes are fulfilled..but If all wishes were fulfilled and all dreams came true , where would be the reason to look forward to anything ? Would I be happy if all my wishes and dreams came true ? Probably not..I would not have anything more to live for.

Let some wishes remain unfulfilled..Gulzar Sahab said it well..

कतरा कतरा मिलती है 
कतरा कतरा जीने दो 
जिंदगी है, बहने दो
प्यासी हूँ मैं, प्यासी रहने दो..

Thursday, September 10, 2015

A Date With Myself

A quiet evening at home.

It's getting harder and harder to find solitude these days. Earlier, one could take a walk in the countryside, enjoy being one with the nature, but now, the countryside is getting smaller and smaller as the concrete world gets bigger and bigger.

I do enjoy the city and its energy, but at times I feel if the humanity is pressing in on me. The need to indulge in and enjoy the fullness of my own presence, the luxury of being with my own thoughts overwhelms me..and today was one such day.

Just me, my solitude and the thumri "Yaad piya ki dukh saha na jaye..haye ram".

The soulfulness of this thumri touches the most inner chords of my soul and gives me a feeling of eternal solace.

Tuesday, September 08, 2015

On Babas, Babies and Bachhas

After a long long time I log on to Yahoo Messenger, I see a friend online and decide to catch up with her. I ask her how she and how her family is.

Her: We are fine but you know my Baba has to work so much in office these days. Two of his colleagues are on leave and he has to do their share of the work too..Everyday he comes home so tired and it worries me. My poor bachha..

Me: Yeah..I can understand..we moms do get worried when we see our children tired and all..

Her: Children ?? No no..I am talking about my husband !

Me: Oh..(wondering why a wife would call her husband her "bachha")

Same evening I see her husband come online.

Me: You wife was very worried about you

Him: My baby worries too much.

Me: Oh..even the child worries..that's so sweet..

Him: No I'm talking about my wife

Me: (stumped !!)

Tuesday, August 25, 2015


मन के आईने पर 
जमी तुम्हारी यादों की धुंध को 
अकसर साफ़ कर लेती हूं मैं 
इस उम्मीद में 
कि कुछ मन भी उजला हो जाए 
और कुछ तुम भी साफ़ नज़र आओ 

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Friday, August 07, 2015

Uniqueness Of Self

When life overwhelms me
I retreat in myself
To that quiet place inside me
Where I can listen
 To the comfortable silence
And enjoy 
The special relationship
That I share with myself
As my mind and body
The inner alchemy
Of self change
And my mind introspects
And revels
In the uniqueness
Of my existence

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Thursday, August 06, 2015


To maintain the equilibrium
Of life
And for the sake
Of convenience
It is good
To let some things
Remain unrequited

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Tuesday, August 04, 2015

मैं एक क़ायनात

मैं माँ की ममता भरी मूरत हूँ 
मैं हूँ बहिन का निःस्वार्थ प्यार 
मैं प्रेमिका की शरारत हूँ 
मैं बेटी का स्नेह और दुलार 

कभी मैं चुपचाप सहने वाली 
कभी हूँ काली का रूप 
कभी पार्वती सी पूजी जाती 
कभी लक्ष्मी का स्वरूप  

कभी ना समझो वो रहस्य हूँ 
कभी सीधी साधी बात 
कभी नदी के चंचल वेग सी 
कभी झील सी गहरी व शान्त 

चंद शब्दों में ना वर्णन हो मेरा 
शब्द भी मेरे लिए हैं अपर्याप्त 
कितने क़िरदार बसते हैं मुझमें  
मैं स्वयं में हूं पूरी क़ायनात 

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Friday, July 31, 2015

The Disillusioned Youth

They live in a make believe world
That has no bearing on reality
And remain trapped in a false life
That is far from practicalities

Peace and love are alien to them
They speak the language of hate
They neither hear logic nor reason
With guns they communicate 

They erase the fine line that depicts
What is wrong and what is right
Their life is full of darkness
And they shun out any form of light

They talk of happiness and freedom
And they scream of it and shout
But in reality they are disillusioned
For they know not what it’s all about

They turn to drugs in hard times
And suffer from low self-esteem
Chaos reigns high in their life
Their true self becomes hard to redeem

They walk the path of ignorance
And they make ample mistakes
That however much they may try later
Will become harder to erase

 There will someday come a time
When they’ll wake up and realize
That all their ideals were false
And this was no way to lead their life

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Sunday, July 26, 2015

भूला हुआ सा "हम"

"तुम" और "मैं" 
के अहंकार की जंग में 
घायल, गुमसुम
भूला हुआ सा एक "हम"..

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Friday, July 24, 2015


नींद ने मुझसे बेरुख़ी कर ली 
ख़्वाब भी मेरे आजकल नम है 
दोस्त मिला कर मुझसे अंधेरों में कहीं 
सूरज से मेरी अब तो दोस्ती कम है....

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Pyre Of Memories

Smoldering ashes
Turn to raging fire
Pyre of memories

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

Imperfectly Perfect

Recently a friend talked to me about how she had joined a gym as well as a cooking class that specified baking cakes. Why this sudden fascination with cakes I asked ? I know for a fact that she dislikes cakes. Her reply was that other women from some group that she was a part of were always discussing/baking cakes and how she always felt left out and stupid. And the weight issue was due to her children mentioning how so and so aunty always looked and dressed so well.

My friend’s need for perfection and other people’s approval made me think..why do people want to be perfect ? To me, imperfection is beautiful. I truly believe that it is our flaws that make us interesting. It is the little differences between us - our quirks and idiosyncrasies that make us curious about each other and therefore connect. Imperfection brings a certain reality and humanness in us.

Why would I want to be the same as everyone else ? I've never understood the need to fit in with groups, follow popular fashions or to do what everyone else is doing. I like to be my own person, I may not be perfect in some people's eyes, but if I'm happy with me, then that's good enough. Every person is beautiful in their own being. No one else is like them. They are unique but not perfect.

No one is perfect. There is no such thing as a perfect person, if there was then things would not last. Yes we have our "perfect moments" and even those may not be perfect in another’s eyes.

Imperfection represents freedom of choice and living and thinking outside of the box, of making mistakes and learning from them. It represents growth. There is beauty in loving and reveling in the uniqueness of imperfection.

Symmetry and balance can be beautiful and fascinating for sure but so can asymmetry and imbalance. It is the little imperfections which often represent adaptation and change , evolution and development, without which we would all stand still and stagnate.

Everyone has a different perception and this is what makes the beauty of imperfection so unique.

Saturday, July 18, 2015

Writer's Block

I overcome my writer's block
By convincing my pen
That it would come closer to you
With each poem that ends

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Friday, July 17, 2015


आँखों में है सूनापन 
दिल में बस वीराना है
लबों पे है ख़ामोशी
मन में एक सन्नाटा है   

न जाने वो कौन शख़्स था 
जो जाते जाते मेरे ख़याल ले गया 

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Wednesday, July 15, 2015


He was
Like a never ending storm
That churned 
In her thoughts
Crashing down
All the protective walls
Of her reserves
And sanity

She was
Like the calm that comes
After the storm
Quietly, patiently
That at the end 
Of every storm
Appears a rainbow
That adorns, enriches
And beautifies life

And yet neither could do
Without the other

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Sunday, July 12, 2015

The India That I Miss

As I grow old, more and more my mind wanders back to my childhood memories. Small things that we took for granted are no more and my heart yearns for the life that was..
Listing a few things from my India in the 70s and 80s that I miss.

Aerograms or हवाई पत्र
Yes, there was a time when every family kept a stock of aerograms to communicate with other family members living in other cities or abroad. The struggle to write down all the details in that limited space had a charm of its own..the birth of a child, the passing away of a distant relative, the exam results of children, the job promotion of on and so forth...
And yes..I miss those telegrams too !

Radio Transistor
They were an addiction. One just HAD to hear the Binaca Geetmala and yes the men would be glued to it for cricket commentaries ! And much later came the I loved mine (and my T-series collection of cassettes).

Scooter with sidecar
Aah yes..who can forget them...those who had one were considered R-I-C-H !  And lets not forget Jay and Veeru riding one singing Yeh dosti..those were the days !

No we did not have video games or Play stations. We had these simple games that kept us entertained and busy all day..and how we loved them !

Every house had this..some had the Kala Dant Manjan too !

Remember those ? Reminds me of the song "Dekho dekho dekho bioscope dekho..Delhi ka kutub minar dekho.."

No we had never even heard of dairy milks and fruit n nut..all we knew were these toffees along with the colorful parle poppins and parle kismi toffees.

Diwali crackers were never complete without these "Saanp ki Golis" !

There are so many things I can go on and on about..I truly feel those who were born in that era are blessed !

Thursday, July 02, 2015

A Day Out In The Sky

This one's for my sweet little Aayushi :)

I lie in my garden and gaze at the sky
I see the fluffy white clouds drift by
I imagine myself among those clouds
Singing songs and laughing aloud

I meet and gossip with a fairy or two 
Revel in emotions, wonderful and new
I dance with all the sylphs around
And hear nature’s beautiful sounds

I come across a castle of dreams
The fairies declare me as its queen
I wear wishes and hopes as my crown
Dress in glass slippers and satin gowns

The sun looks down and smiles at me
And the child in me claps in glee 
I lie back and bask in warm sunshine
Feeling so carefree and divine

The moon gently spreads its light
I gaze in wonder at the beautiful sight
I fill my pockets with a handful of stars
Those shine so bright, near and far

I feed on the air and drink in the breeze
And play some games with fairy pixies
Finally tired, I come back to the ground
And fall asleep in my bed so sound

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Wednesday, June 24, 2015

तुझ से मैं तक

तू मेरी हर सोच में  
तू मेरी हर चाह में 
तू मेरी हर बात में 
तू मेरी हर याद में 
तू मेरी हर फ़िक्र में 
तू मेरे हर ज़िक्र में 

 कभी जो तुझ से निकलूं 
तो  "मैं " तक पहुंचूँ 

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Satin Rain

Soft silky satin rain
Falling gently on my face
Quenching my thirsty soul

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

मेरी अपनी

कभी ख़याल बन 
मुझे दिन में सताती है 
कभी सपना बन के 
मेरी नींदों में आ जाती है 
कभी धड़कन बन 
मेरे दिल में समाती है 
कभी मीठा सा गीत बन 
मेरे होठों से गुनगुनाती है 
और जो मैं कभी 
ज़िन्दगी में मशरूफ हो जाऊं 
तो चुपके से पीछे आ 
मेरी आखों पे हाथ रख 
हौले से पूछ जाती है 
"बताओ तो मैं तुम्हारी कौन ?"
यह कह कर मुस्कुराती है 

अब इतना अपना कौन होगा भला 
तुम्हारी याद के सिवा....

Saturday, June 06, 2015

Krishna's Call

The distant sound 
Of flute music
Transports me 
To that space
Between listen and feel
The sweetness 
Of its melody
Captivates my heart
Mesmerizing my senses
As the music 
Ebbs and flows
Inside my fragile body
Curing all
The maladies of my life
Breaking away
The chains of pessimism
Driving away 
The melancholy
And my heart travels
On a mellifluous journey
Between notes
As I hear a  voice
Call out “Radha, O Radha”
And my heart feels
A moment of dismay
That it is not my name
That he calls
But then I hear 
His soft laughter
And he whispers
“There resides a Radha
In each and every soul”
Happiness surges through
My whole being
And I surrender willingly
To his love

Hare Krishna

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

My Inner Landscape - My Book Published

Book - My Inner Landscape

Finally my book is published. It is a collection of poetry and is now available on :

Amazon USA

Amazon India

Cyberwit Publications

I look forward to your comments and feedback :)

Book Review – The Wedding Trousseau And Other Short Stories

Book Review – The Wedding Trousseau And Other Short Stories

Book Details:

Title – The Wedding Trousseau And Other Short Stories
Author – Ankita Sharma
Genre – Fiction - Short Stories
Publisher – Humming Words
Publication Year- 2015
Pages – 138
Language - English

The simplicity of the stories in this book makes it an easy read. Each story seems to be taken from day to day life. Thought-provoking, dreamy, sad, and hilarious, this collection of stories by Ankita Sharma takes the reader on a diverse and unforgettable journey through a variety of topics, themes, and emotions. 

The story “One More Bite” - makes one face the inequalities in life and the in-sensitiveness of the financially stable towards those who might not be so.

The Wedding Trousseau is the story of a woman trapped in the complexities of her married life.

All in all, it is a collection of good stories all rolled into one neat package.

These stories are outside my usual genre but I really enjoyed them. Not all of the stories have happy endings, much like real life, but they are all well worth reading.

Book available on:

Saturday, April 18, 2015

An Ode To Mother Nature

© Copyright Renu Vyas

 All night long
A roaring storm raged
It banged its fists 
On my window panes
But as the daylight came
 It subsided
Silently it receded 
And went into hiding

The morning has come 
To spread its joy
I hear a distant chuckle 
Of a baby boy
The sun comes out 
The flowers all bloom
Spreading all around 
Their sweet perfume

Dewdrops glisten 
Like pearls on leaves
A spider works quietly 
And a silk web it weaves
The air is fresh 
In the early morning light
The sky is clear 
Clouds are fluffy and white

Out comes a koyal 
To sing me a song
I could sit still 
And hear it all day long
It sits and sings 
A sweet melody
That fills my heart 
With such rhapsody

Here and there
Fly the honeybees
Humming and buzzing
Between swaying trees
They work non-stop
And for long hours
Hopping and flying
From flower to flower

The cows come out 
And idly graze
Soaking in the warmth 
Of the sun rays 
The sound of their cowbells 
Add to their charm
I am filled with 
A sense of peace and calm

These days we are so surrounded by the urban jungle, the unlimited concrete buildings going up everywhere and the daily chaos of life that we totally miss out on the beauty and healing power of mother nature. Time spent in the lap of nature is time spent well. One cannot help but marvel at the beauty of a single flower, or the roar of thunder, or the early morning dewdrops on the leaves. 

We are so caught up in the daily grind that we fail to notice the beauty we are surrounded with. We destroy the greenery for shopping malls; we chop away the trees and forests for skyscrapers and flyovers and we do all this in the name of development. This poem is my ode to mother nature. 

Wednesday, April 08, 2015


Winter nights
Are the best times
To reminisces
As the chilly air
Filled with melancholy
Surrounds my senses
And my mind once again
Takes a walk
Down the highway
Of memories
Desperately searching
For the milestones
Of relations
That have faded over time
But all that the mind finds
Are some forgotten images
That flash by
And a few discarded dreams…
The thick fog
Of indifference
Limits my vision
Making me trip
Over bits and pieces
Of long forgotten conversations
That echo of relations
That were left behind to die…
Yes, winter nights
Are the best times
To reminisce

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Monday, March 30, 2015


Top post on, the community of Indian Bloggers

© Copyright Renu Vyas

What in life is right
And what is wrong
It’s a never ending debate
That can go on and on

What one sees as truth
Maybe another person’s lie
Different set of rules
For different set of eyes

What makes one happy
Can make another sad
Who is to sit and judge
What is good or what is bad

What may be reality to some
Others may call misconception
It is all how one sees and thinks
And a matter of perception

Friday, March 20, 2015

Reconnecting With Friends

This one's for the 83-84 St.Patrick's batch that reconnected recently. The loud conversations in free periods seem like so long ago. Yet, memories from our high school years still resonate on my mind. I can't explain in words how it feels reminiscing with you all who I made long-ago memories with.
Like Hubert H. Humphrey said - "The greatest gift of life is friendship, and I received it." Love you all ladies :)

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Moments, months and years passed by
And we all grew old and apart
And though I lost touch with you all
You remained forever in my heart

Each one of you was special to me
In more ways than you can think
And though I may not have said it aloud
Between us I always felt a sacred link

Those carefree days of laughter
Those school crushes and being mad
That sharing of every insignificant thing
And the love that everywhere spread

Those shared yummy hot samosas in school
And the gossip in lunch breaks
The much dreaded, hated civics class
And in home science trying to stay awake

My eyes go moist remembering it all
And I regret the years spent alone 
But I believe we can recreate that magic
That through our friendship sparkled and shone

You were all like bright vivid colors
On the canvass of life I call “Me”
You each gave meaning to my life
And carved and shaped my personality

Reconnecting with you all once again
My heart swells with happiness and joy
Once again laughter and tears will be shared
And again each other’s company we’ll enjoy

Sunday, March 08, 2015

Friday, March 06, 2015

Your Everything, And More

Top post on, the community of Indian Bloggers

My life was so intertwined
Lovingly with yours
And you claimed I was
Your everything, and more..

My days were filled
With thoughts of you
Your nights were punctuated
With dreams of me..

My whole being reflected
Your personality
And you echoed
Every emotion I had..

Naively, I thought
Our love was everlasting
Little did I know
That life had other plans..

You lost yourself
To the daily chaos of life
While I got lost 
In the clutter of your mind..

Feelings were procrastinated
And indifference crept in
Your priorities changed
And mine faded with time..

The love that once was
Now lies lifeless and forgotten
Suffocating under 
The debris of indifference..

 No more is my life
Intertwined with yours
And no more am I
Your everything, and more...

© Copyright Renu Vyas

Wednesday, March 04, 2015

Moving On

Top post on, the community of Indian Bloggers

The past is called the “past”
For a very valid reason
For it once was and had to go
Like the ever passing seasons

The past is a distant place
We can never go back to 
We cannot change what was
Nor can the incidents we undo

So just accept the fact willingly
That the past is over and gone
Fill your heart with new dreams
Hold your head up and move on

The future is what awaits us
And new stories it will tell
Don’t turn back to look at the past
Just let it go and bid it farewell

© Copyright Renu Vyas