The sand slips faster as I try to hold it more,
So I should try learn to let things go.
The night sleeps quiet as the crickets mourn;
The corpses in the graveyard weep in the heavy downpour.

The days run away faster than the lazy clock ticks;
Some bad days and some happy memories—
An old bamboo hut and a lady at the porch,
A sack of marbles and some swings on the tress.

Some stupid games and some crazy friends,
Running for lives after breaking the window panes.
The first love and those failed attempts;
Young and wild-dumping all sense.

I feel a twinge— a pang of separation;
Things become priceless only after they’re gone.
And I’m in a fix— swinging like a pendulum,
Caught in a web of itchy emotions.



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