I am, but just a thought

Something written off & forgotten

With times rancid

With moments rotten

I am the feather you left pressed

Between the leaves of a book

Whose pages turned russet,

But the cover never shook

Long lost I am,

the, odd bill you left at the table

Required no longer

No more able

I am, but just a mild sin;

easily forgiven

A war with conscience

that you can always win

I am the little lump

that is easy on your throat

No more an ocean

But a brook easy to float

I am now, just a faint echo,

of the cry that often at crossroads;

Reminded you that you forgot,

your prayer’s load.

I am but, just a thought…!

 : Himanshu (1995)