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Things Past

Usually no one calls me after 8 in the evening. Who would be calling in this winter cold? 

He teases me to figure out who from his voice. I don’t remember him even after he says his name. I have a faint remembrance of someone with a lengthy name.

Then he mentions incidents from our school days. The years, the ambience and certain characters click with me, but not the specific incidents, not even a single one. 

I’m both irritated and a bit confused. Still, I’m hoping he’ll call again.

autumn seashore
a childhood friend
on horseback
eons pass by in seconds
before we smile

About the Author


Suraj Nanu discovered his passion for haiku and related short forms of poetry only recently. An aspiring haijin, his work has been widely featured during the last two years. He loves and lives in the Western Ghats, India.


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