Shimmering water like your long hair in ripe golden sun
Words sweetly flowing through the breeze like Mum’s freshly fried eggs,
Do you remember the smell?
Of the tea laid out on the table and you always wondered why only elders could drink it and not us?
Waves going to and fro like that old broken swing on the mango tree,
Do you remember the voices?
Of gleeful laughter, of the winds blowing and the push on the swing?
And there I was standing amidst the chaos of all life that stirred around.
And yet there you were, breathing in and out, in silence.
What you see, is just a handful of sea
You can’t see that the vast ocean resides in me.
~To Lost days.