Collector

I have kept all.
I didn't throw away anything,
the moonbeam on my palm
or the old violin I used to play
I have kept them all.

I have kept the dry leaf,
the lone cast away child of green
and also the brass medallion-
the prize of our second hand romance.
Photographs in black and white
and reminiscences in grey
I have kept them all.

When the sun burnt a hole
in my brown hand
and familiarity burnt another
in my silent contempt,
I remembered again,
all that I had kept aside.
Black eyes fastened on grey ones,
wilderness of Paradise
and empathy of love
I had kept them, kept them all!