An unsung feeling of a boy about his best friend with whom he wishes to grow older..
In the autumn of our life,
When we will be lying on the bed,
And a different person will be there for us to take care,
Through the window we would stare the same moon,
But from different rooms,
We will try to call each other shouting out loud,
But it will end up with a soft whisper sound,
The razz and fun we made of each other,
Will make our eyes glitter together,
And when the holy door appears to be close,
We will remember the summer of 17,
The late night talks,
And our exploding symphony's...
Reaching the end with wrinkled smile and last murmured words ,
I wish I would have said to her,
With you I want to grow older...
There is no such thing as the resurrection of the dead. And dying is a misnomer because life, the soul, is immortal!.
Personality depends on moral habit. Self - confident can develop one's personality.
In this poetry I have mentioned that how much we have came away from God. Hope you will understand it..
Dont ever think of the end game while life is for living and game is on? 17, 70 or even 100 are mere numbers. Ageing is beautiful but enjoyable process of life cycle. Depends how one takes it -recalling energetic 17 year form orlamenting on a bit worn out and greying 70 year configuration.Why ageing friend shud be in diffeent room? One can always share when one has all the time and why be bed ridden?reply 0