Window to the Past

I am not the typical movie buff who would do anything to get that 'First day first show' ticket. I wouldnt do that, no not even for Aamir Khan. Instead I would call myself a prudent fan. Its only when a movie has been highly recommended to me that I decide to go and watch it. Dor was one such movie. There is no point talking about how good the movie was or appreciating the actors and the script, all that has been done. So as a tribute to good cinema and to the young widows I wrote this.

The lilting laughter by the well,
the yellow of the marigolds
The sound of a thousand bells
or the days when the world was my only shell.
The colours, they say , are gone too.
The sun once shone brightly upon me
but they say even thats gone with you.
The blues though, I am allowed to keep
and not to forget the black too.
But then how do I still see all of it,
Maybe its a mirage,maybe its true.
In the garden the roses still bloom,
and the marigolds, they still shine
maybe even a deeper yellow when I think of you.
You didnt give me the world
Then how do they say you took mine with you.
The first drop of rain, the clear skies,
my spring and my autumn too,
I know they are still all as much mine,
as when I had shared them with you,
I know it, I do.
The colours are all there too,
A splash of yellow, a sprinkle of red
and just a dash of blue.
Oh! how I wish I would have them,
Oh! I wish it were all true.