The Good Old Days – Pooja Jain

I still remember the rhymes of the moon,
And the secret wishes of growing up soon.
Trying at times to be the amateur dad,

Tiny feet in dad’s big shoes made me glad.
Mom’s lipstick all over the face,
Hiding behind the curtain not to be traced.
Sneaking out of the house with the sun overhead,
Everybody meeting up near the age old shed.
Those were the best games ever played,
Never realized the time when together we stayed.
Mostly ending up in fights and all logics in vain,
But to be together, the next day all over again.

The tears rolling down when I was in pain,
As fresh and innocent as first rain.
The difficult hour at the dinner was tense,
Mom’s forever complaints, which to me never made sense.
Unkempt notes, shabby clothes, homework never done,
Ah! Thanks to my dad “The coolest one”.
Unnoticed, the secret wishes gathered into a shape,
And with time it assumed a drape.
The transition was a runaway without a halt,
From a grown up kid to an adult was a jolt.

My knowledge and intelligence was ever expanding,
Friends, money, freedom became prior things.
But something was narrowing and getting constricted,
Within me, unaware I was being restricted.
The genuineness of smile and warmth of emotions fading away,
And I realized that growing up was this way.
Want to fly back to those good old days childhood skies,
But can just smile back at them with tearful eyes.
And I came across a kid in front of me,
Through his crystal clear eyes I could see.
Those secret wishes of growing up soon,
As he hums the rhymes of the moon.

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