We write about the past
Because we don’t know the future
The present goes fast
And this...we have to nurture
As I remember my parents
They had so much to tell
I was so busy with my errands
So much behind I fell
Now I have the time
They are not here to ask
The memory they left behind
Will be my only task
That’s way I am writing
These precious lines in brief
Now is time for binding
Because time is also
A silent thief
From the collection's own note: the images with these poems are AI-created artistic renderings by the source, not historical photographs.