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Miss The Old Days

Miss The Old Days

2 mins

Now in the fragrance of dense fog,

I come to meet everyday and every moment,

A different me a lost me a harmless me,

That I lost long back in an accident,

Now in the colours of magnificent flowers,

Which are dancing in front of my eyes,

Find I my misplaced past when I was naive,

The memory of then from the sigh of my sea arise,

Now when I see myself in the dancing peacock,

I realise the old me was more gleeful than this beast,

I realise that mother's lap was far too better than my busy chair,

That travelling on my father's shoulder has ceased,

Life and words hurt more than death or sticks,

As sticks and rods can break our bones,

But words can break our heart,

My untold waters in my two ponds does groan,

The friends made in the tough times teach,

The worrying waves will wonder one day,

If you accept them as a part of your growing up,

The driest desert of life will turn to an evergreen way,

In this foggy morning I am on a street,

And as I go on I see a lot of sufferings and pain,

Some are enjoying the state of exams,

Some are still thinking how to start and gain,

But through the veil of this white fume,

There comes a light of hope a light of felicity,

A light which was not relieving to the rich,

A light which is not diacritic to the poor's simplicity,

It flows like a river never waiting for anyone,

Not for ministers not for VIPs not in fear of any weapons,

It is as the water that passes only once from before you,

It has a clear thought clear is its actions,

I was always confused in a small thing,

Whenever I saw my face in the mirror of life,

It had some dust always so my face was never clear,

I rubbed but didn't know my face had the dust and it was a strife,

I wanted to be the best one,

I wanted to have the most laurel,

But I didn't know to have the best view,

The climb is the toughest not an amble.

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