Sitting in a 2×2 box, he looked out the window,

in a quiet night, raises a voice deep inside his mind,

Long gone are those cards handcrafted by you,

From the attic, in the box earlier when he mined.

“I’m a person of future and not past”,said out loud,

The rain drops on his outstretched hand said otherwise,

The voice inside his head laughed at his false virtue,

Conflicting him and enticing him in the web of lies.

“Doesn’t matter what I think. What I do is.”

The wind listening to it blew right past him,

Taking him with it to the land of childhood trips,

Seeing the faces and hills, Scrooge in him whims.

“You haven’t won this battle. Quite the opposite,

With past and future, living in present presence,

Cherishing the memories had made and about to”

Voice, on victory, lopsidedly chuckled and goes to deep silence.

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