Souvenirs

As I opened my diary

A few pieces of paper fell

Words dipped in blue and black

Spurring out memories of 

colourful days,

Days hovered by grey clouds

Or days spent with you

Talking about the days spent with you

A paper rests on my lap,

Reminiscing how much did I fight for it with a friend,

Crushed at the corners

Crumbled in the ends

Cracked branches sprouting open in between

Yet, it stays with me, your history paper

Cause a photograph with you was miles and smiles away

Each letter reminds me of

The times we learnt them together to write

The countless words remind me of the way you read them,

Some with mistakes,

Some which you skipped,

Some which I forgot

I was lost again

Now, looking at the only souvenir of yours

Then, looking at you.