All That We Became

By Saumitra Srivastava

When we were small, they’d always ask,

“What will you be when you grow tall?”

A pilot, a painter, a doctor, a star.

Each day we spun dreams, both near and far.

We built castles of cloud with no fear of fall,

Dreams so pure, they answered every call.

Yet now we stand, grown and gray at the edge,

Looking back from this life’s narrow ledge.

The dreams we chased, where did they go?

They shifted with time, as seasons flow.

We didn’t become what we dreamt back then,

But perhaps what we are is still worth again.

Why did they ask what we’d grow to be,

But never said, “Whatever comes, let it be”?

Why teach us to chase and climb and run,

Yet not to pause when the day is done?

Along the way, we met many hearts.

Carrying their hopes in broken parts.

Eyes still glimmering with faded light,

Smiling through regrets held tight at night.

Some wish they had taken one more chance,

Or turned left instead of the obvious dance.

“If only,” they whisper in silence and shade,

“If only the dream hadn’t begun to fade.”

But perhaps the truth is neither cruel nor kind,

It simply waits for each soul to find.

That what we become is not just one thing,

But echoes of every forgotten spring.

So here's to the dreams that never came true,

And to the quiet courage that carried us through.

We may not be what we once longed to see.

But we are something, and that, too, must be free.

By Saumitra Srivastava