After Ten or Fifteen Years

Echoes of
Someday,
if I ever break free
from the restless whirl of this household —
even for a fleeting moment —
I’ll remember
the cries of childhood,
the mischief of youth,
the laughter of those college days,
the teasing of my friends…

I wonder where they are now,
what they do.
Most of them must be married by now.
At this age,
no one seems left unmarried.
A few who once called,
who remembered me even after college —
they too disappeared
while pulling the cart of family life.
Even I… lost myself somewhere.

Now, in my contact list,
there are only colleagues —
those I work with,
and relatives,
my children’s tutors,
and a few chosen friends’ numbers.
Sometimes, we chat in leisure hours.
Though my wife forbids drinking,
friends still say,
“Come over, just once…”
I wish I could.
But to one I gave my word —
so I sit with them,
yet can’t raise the glass.

Everyone’s busy
building their own world.
So many faces crowd the streets —
my friends are among them,
yet I can’t pick one out
to call by name.
Their faces blur,
their names fade.
I look into their eyes —
they look into mine —
in that haze of known and unknown
the words remain unspoken.

Today, my friends
are strangers on the road.
Our weary minds and dimming eyes
couldn’t hold on
to the strength we once had.
Whose defeat is this, I wonder —
theirs,
mine,
or ours alike?

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