The sadness that grips us
is layered with smiles
as a glossy cover, binding a dull print.
Happiness is seen blurred and confusing
through the translucence of time.
The yellow on the old books
never sticks to us;
Memories are eaten away by mites
till the pages crumble at our slightest thoughts.
The joy of the irreversibility of time binds us
to the memories and we fight with mites
for our share of the pulp.