1 min read

o my juvenile

we used to talk,
even when broke;
we used to have fun,
at night and under the sun;
you and me, together.

do you remember?

we used to cycle through town,
taking turns to pedal around;
exploring our city, meeting new people,
that picture with anonymous uncle’s hound,


the treks we used to take,
racing up the mountain tops,
being lost, we used to fake;
that cold drizzle, that fresh air gush,
that adventure, that adrenaline rush.

those strolls in thick foggy nights,
finding our way through bokeh of lights,
trying to find some magical stair flights,
to dive in to clouds, to swim the mist;
ah! that long wishful list.

those sittings around the fire place,
the stories we told, with straight face;
those secrets and gossips,
those scandals those lies,
you always read my whispering eyes.

it all returns to me,
each September;
haunt me,
makes me wonder,
how it all came to be;
why did we so abandon each other?
o my juvenile, that too, forever?