Me and My Diary: A Poem by Jayashree Bhattacherjee

At dusk when the sky spills over patches of amber, crimson, orange, and grey
With my head bent over my diary I sit by the window every day
Silently penning on it my fluid thoughts of  hope and dream
Secret words gushing out on it steadily like a stream
With spontaneous pleasure, I write about the simple joys of the azure skies
 Magic of the seasons with their varied beauties
A wondrous portrait of the world is drawn
Laden heavy with the ruby sunset and the hope of a new dawn
My diary knows all about my love, my desires, my ecstasies ‘n emotions
My frustrations ‘n frowns, my scars, and my depressions
Everything I share with it is a piece of me
Pouring out my heart and soul over it, how relieved I seem to be
How patiently it listens to everything that I say
Unlike humans, it never criticizes nor does it ever betray.
Like that of Anne Frank’s diary, it might not be a masterpiece
But me and my diary share a special bond, with it I am always at peace
I feel I owe this precious possession of mine enormous thanks
For lifting my heart up, every time it sank
In my autumnal days when I’ll shuffle through the brittle pages of my diary
I’ll recapture my wonderful past that once filled me with joy and glory.