Days turned into nights, I continued to stand stilland pondered why time flies so fast?I traveled through my memory,I realized that nothing ever lasts.Each day passes by, one after the other,some have a hidden purposeand some are utterly reasonless,Some days are indelible and somejust leave us with an uncertain guess. Some days are obliterated andsome days become your heartbeat,Some days you ne’er want back andsome days you again want to meet.Some days you spend whimpering andsome day you titter more,Some days you're silent and tender andsome days you want to holler and roar.A calendar is not just a paper with dates and month,it’s a free stub to moments we are in love with,How bewildering that a titchy paper holds the momentthat we rue and moments we are absurdly blithe with.A calendar contains aphorism that the days that are gone,will never recur back,We are feart to let go these moments,we keep these moments with us in our memory sack.Moments are never numbered,it’s the jollity that it giveswhich builds you further,The solitary who understands what's fadedwill never reappear again, isn't namedno-hoper but known as a learner.You only reminisce the moments thatmakes your heart skip a beat why? I wonderBecause your mind is memento withsome aesthetic moments in your heart calendar.-saumya puri