A forgotten scrapbook –
Of memories
Suddenly popped up in a nook
As I cleaned up the attic.

I sat down and flipped through it.
The pages were yellowish and worn,
And soon, I was transported
To a time long lost and gone.

Colorful stickers of fairies
From a time when magic existed;
Me and my friends wearing wide smiles
Posing in photos that were pasted.

Sketches of flowers and butterflies,
Oodles and oodles of doodles,
The Sun crayoned in the blue skies,
And streams meandering like noodles.

Yes, those were the days, indeed,
When dolls made of candy wrappings
And purses made of mango tree leaves
Brought me immense happiness.

With each page, I walked
Slowly down memory lane,
When deep within, I heard a whisper
Like someone speaking from far away.

“The joy you seek day after day
Is not in the things you chase,
But, inside you, it has always lain,
Waiting to be found from its hiding place.

There is no perfect place or time
For you to decide to be happy.
The phase you thought you’d left behind
Is a map for creating more memories.”

And this was what the voice spoke
As I sat with my scrapbook in the attic.
Enlightened, I was, as I arose
With a song on my lips and a beat in my step.