Childhood
All is not lost
Memories buried in my bosom
Are not yet dead
The plays, fads and foibles
Bubble in my heart
Giving me my precious self and
The chaste child of golden days
School, boys and teachers
Were the part of myself
As much as were the mango tress
And the secretly plucked fruits
The sly slips of the classes
And the clever excuses
Remind me of crafty endurance
Days full of quest and curiosity
Every moment learning new things
Preserving them in ceaseless memory
Bracing unwanted family intrusions
An undiminished soul
Always busy and demanding
A baby with eternal exuberance
Big dreams in the tiny heart
Days full of kites and
Paper-boats in rain-filled yard
Father’s scare and mother’s love
Stress of exams and results
Marching to school with heavy bags
Always eager for the last bell
The days blossomed into youth
Maturity and senility took over
Worries, conflicts and tensions
Replaced the bloom and joy
Desire to retrieve the gone days
Flimsy but soothing burns inside
And the life goes on
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