Of a friendship lost, then found once again in the realm of memories, nostalgia.
Nostalgia
Heartfelt messages hastily scribbled,
On ruled paper, secretly passed
Along uniform rows of teak wood desks,
Under prying eyes and monotone bass.
On the third bench of the second row,
The boy with seraphic eyes,
Made you blush at first glance,
As I giggled at the innocent vice.
Late-night calls whispered words…
A never-ending flow;
Bleary eyes on the morning bus,
But lightened hearts and smiles aglow!
Impish pranks and laughter dazed,
Hapless victims raising hell,
And as onlookers stared amazed,
We’d snigger in our secret den.
These images float before my eyes,
In couture dresses and fluorescent lights,
When you greet me with a cordial smile?
As a stranger in a familiar guise.
And as I gaze around me now,
The grand halls, the tasteful decor;
I see, the girl I used to know,
I was lost in translation along the road.
And somehow, that makes it easier, you see,
My dear friend, to hold on to your memory.
An eccentric writer of quirky tales, who likes reading, writing, talking, shopping and singing tunelessly in the shower.
