Dust of Memory
by
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| REFLECTIONS The early afternoon sun, Descending down the bare branches of the Redwood trees, Looks less glorious than the one I saw in your eyes; Soon it’s going to disappear like you did. The evening would become a synonym for the Freudian death – wish. But, then, right behind the lengthening shadows of my afternoon Would appear the sunshine of your memories! |
The early afternoon sun,
Descending down the bare branches of the Redwood trees,
Looks less glorious than the one
I saw in your eyes;
Soon it’s going to disappear like you did.
The evening would become a synonym for the Freudian death – wish.
But, then, right behind the lengthening shadows of my afternoon
Would appear the sunshine of your memories!
| REFLECTIONS The early afternoon sun, Descending down the bare branches of the Redwood trees, Looks less glorious than the one I saw in your eyes; Soon it’s going to disappear like you did. The evening would become a synonym for the Freudian death – wish. But, then, right behind the lengthening shadows of my afternoon Would appear the sunshine of your memories! |
| REFLECTIONS The early afternoon sun, Descending down the bare branches of the Redwood trees, Looks less glorious than the one I saw in your eyes; Soon it’s going to disappear like you did. The evening would become a synonym for the Freudian death – wish. But, then, right behind the lengthening shadows of my afternoon Would appear the sunshine of your memories! |
| REFLECTIONS The early afternoon sun, Descending down the bare branches of the Redwood trees, Looks less glorious than the one I saw in your eyes; Soon it’s going to disappear like you did. The evening would become a synonym for the Freudian death – wish. But, then, right behind the lengthening shadows of my afternoon Would appear the sunshine of your memories! |
| REFLECTIONS The early afternoon sun, Descending down the bare branches of the Redwood trees, Looks less glorious than the one I saw in your eyes; Soon it’s going to disappear like you did. The evening would become a synonym for the Freudian death – wish. But, then, right behind the lengthening shadows of my afternoon Would appear the sunshine of your memories! |
| REFLECTIONS The early afternoon sun, Descending down the bare branches of the Redwood trees, Looks less glorious than the one I saw in your eyes; Soon it’s going to disappear like you did. The evening would become a synonym for the Freudian death – wish. But, then, right behind the lengthening shadows of my afternoon Would appear the sunshine of your memories! |
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About the Book
Raised in India and transplanted to the United States, poet Prabhu Jha has lived his life in a diverse duality that comes across in his work. Dust of Memory is a look back in time but also a look toward the future, whatever it may hold. Jha presents relatable situations, moods, and scenarios from day-to-day life … with a twist. His words are peaceful and sometimes lull the reader into a state of prolonged bliss—until they are awakened by a quip of wit or whimsy that inspires the mind. He writes of universal emotions like love, loss, failure, and success, still with the dualistic view of a man who has lived in two different worlds and acquired life-altering experiences in both. He is in touch with nature and sees how the natural world can be a mirror of the human condition. How can a sunset remind him of a lost love? It’s possible, as we are so intertwined with the world around us, including nature and the people in our lives. Nature and words have the power to revisit places long forgotten, and so, through poetry, Jha reexamines memories and finds in them the strength to go on.
About the Author
Prabhu Jha was born in India and eventually moved to America. He carries with him the fascinating perspectives of both insider and outcast. He holds a Ph.D. in English literature and Master’s degrees in English literature and English as a second language.