By Ajay M
Where have you gone?
Oh dear simple things.
Those moments left bygone,
Which gave me wings.
Those days, them letters,
Not written but etched.
And the frail flowers,
Truly loved and cherished.
A hopeless romantic, I'm.
Who adores little things.
Living on borrowed time,
With no attached strings.
I am growing old,
Yet I'm a child.
Memories I do hold,
Of when I'm wild.
Please take me back,
To those good days,
Where in a shack,
My dear heart lays.
By Ajay M
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