We wish for a world that stays.
The end of my feet still hold,
that ugly scar I once prided on,
back in the days when the Earth was flat,
the birds could talk,
and people were all the same.
Back in the days,
when the village school masters ran behind us,
with the sticks that hit the back of our soft palm so often,
and abuses that were retorted among us friends,
when no one was listening...
Our dirty finger nails,
dug in deeper into the earth,
the earth that loved us the same,
and hurt us even more with every fall,
from my father's broken cycle.
When I and my long lost pal,
relieved ourselves near the tree,
to realize, once we were done,
the the zip of our pants were broken in the haste,
when we walked back home,
with a banana leaf covering our boyhood treasures,
with a grin, covering our faces,
and laughed harder with our mother's stitches..
We were children,
children of a generation that ended,
once we stepped out of the margins of our ole dusty village,
and stood out as another generation,
among the crowd of a million more generations,
that were lost and found everyday,
on the face of the biggest cities of Earth.
But although we were children,
with dirty half pants,
and torn vests,
our laughter was the loudest,
our joy- the biggest,
our happiness- the simplest,
ourselves- the naivest.
there was so much fun in that naivety,
the mangoes were so much more tastier,then.
For we are grown up today,
and still wish for the world to have stayed as it was,
just as we did,
in all our sorrows,
in all our joys,