And in the folds
Of every heart
Is a nave
That ends in an apse
Of reminiscence
Sacred and august

An apse to be trudged
Only by the beholder
To perform
Not very often though
A little prayer

For this corner
Is an ether
Volatile even by a thin lustre
As it lights bright through
The shades of retina
The altar of the sacred corner
Is ablaze; all aglow

A trickle of single tear
And sanctified smile
Often unnoticed yet appear
So close just
Yet away from the world

The altar of memories
Is cherished year after year
Seldom to be mass opened
And yet for a pure prayer