My past has became raisin,
Once it was pulpy grapes,
Sweet and sour mixed; dried,
Now seems so tasty; my pride,
I am enjoying with yesteryear's pain,
Enough it gave to me, made me human,
My poems are what; that's the gain,
I look back and write- past my lumen,
Aftab Alam
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/past-my-lumen/
