Songs of the Forgotten

In a dim-lit room where shadows dance,
An old musician sits, lost in a trance,
His fingers trace the weathered strings,
Where echoes of memories, like whispers, cling.

Once vibrant notes poured from his soul,
Each melody a fragment, each chord a whole,
The songs of laughter, of love and of pain,
Now linger like ghosts in the soft, pouring rain.

He strummed the strings to a tune of first love,
Beneath the stars, with a heart like a dove,
Her laughter was light, a bright summer’s song,
But seasons turned cold, and the night felt too long.

In the glow of the moon, they danced in the dark,
Each twirl, each step, igniting a spark,
But the world moved on, and shadows grew tall,
Leaving echoes of sweetness, a bittersweet call.

A lullaby sung to a child in his arms,
Soft coos and giggles, wrapped in warm charms,
Those notes still linger, a balm for the soul,
But time, cruel thief, has taken its toll.

He strummed for the nights when the heartache was real,
For dreams that lay broken, like glass at his heel,
Each note was a tear, each pause a deep sigh,
As the rhythms of life began to drift by.

Through halls of remembrance, he wanders alone,
Each song a companion, a fragment, a bone,
In the echo of silence, he hears the refrain,
The laughter, the sorrow, the joy wrapped in pain.

Old vinyl spins tales of a life intertwined,
With the melodies lost in the whispers of time,
Yet still in his heart, they refuse to depart,
These songs of the forgotten, alive in his heart.

For though the world changes and memories fade,
The music remains, a sweet serenade,
In the twilight of years, he finds solace in sound,
In the songs of the forgotten, where lost love is found.

So let the strings quiver, let the music take flight,
In the depths of the night, let the echoes ignite,
For every lost moment, a melody stays,
In the songs of the forgotten, where the heart always plays.

- Khushi Kaul