The Momento

a poem by Ramana MLV

My stretched hand was carrying that momento
A parting gift worth decorating even a golden showcase
I could see that nasty layer of salty water
Making her sparkling eyes glisten.
My goodness!
That saturnine smile too was captivating.
But,
Every human activity is an economic one, isn’t it?
Those parting lips made her Monalisa-incarnate.
She simply said,
‘If I need a momento to remember you by,
You are not worth remembering.
If you are worth remembering,
I don’t need that to remember you by’
She simply walked away
Empty handed.
I stood there gazing at that momento
In my own hands.
A momento?
To whom? And from whom?
A parting gift worth decorating even a golden showcase.
But, suddenly, it grew into microscopic obscurity.
Is my hand worth being decorated
By that momento?
I, then, understood
Why I lost her
And,
How I lost myself.
Alas! I needed a momento to remember her by!
The momento this time is
The death of my sprit.
A thin layer of feeling is covering my eyes
Obscuring my vision.
Still,
I could watch her walking away
Empty handed.