AN ACHING SOUVENIR

AN ACHING SOUVENIR
Half a decade has passed
I pay a visit to my late granny’s house
Reviving my childhood days
When everything was gigantic
The streets, the houses, and the people                                                                                                                                                                                                      
House was honey mellow, singing bird
There my granny and my sparkling days of child
Nothing seems to last of those days now
A few aged people don’t recognize me
For I have grown tall or fat or their weak sight
But few out of my parent’s resemblance
They know me, regards I have grown up
The house cobwebbed, walls cracked
Abandoned, haunted and no birds sing
That evaporates the tears in my heart
And rain a river of teardrop from my eyes  
AH! Woe betide, I fail to rejoice
The souvenir of her to me
But it did remind me of her a lot
An aching souvenir and the reminiscence