Ode to the First Friend
Back then,
I don’t know when.
There was a life on my shoulder,
And a pen in my holder.
My hands were younger,
To write your thunder.
Those pair of hands,
Looked better with yours.
We were toddlers,
And hearts were tender.
My motions and your notions,
Made a school of emotions.
That place was a blender.
We blended ourselves.
We laughed,
We cried,
We celebrated,
We walked,
Then talked.
And weird secrets,
Were strongly locked.
The young grow old,
Some weak, some bold.
Some peals of laughter went cold,
Yet the gazes were gold.
Those small hands felt the air pass through,
Sweaty stares and motion glue.
The world back then was dark blue.
Something was first.
My first loved hatred you were.
And my first ever sacred you were.
My set of feelings elaborated you were.
My initial heartache you were.
My first childhood friend you were.
The perfect beginning and the learning end you were.
Whenever I have a thunder with a heart holder,
I don’t know why,
In a lone forest,
I pass a smile to the story molder.
I wish we walk the same lane someday,
I wish we have a face-off someday.
And all teary would be our glasses then,
Raising a toast to the classes then.
We will be traveling our 9 years after these 12 years in that gap,
we will travel to shake the grown hands.
I will breathe you,
And will leave you time and again.
We are that way,
Two friends so near, to be far away.
There are Loads more, from where this has come: मन मंथन — Blending Thoughts
