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I wish I could untick the clock
go back to my childhood block,
The road that leads to those childhood feelings,
Those somethings or sometimes nothings,
The memories splash on my face,leaving a trace,
The cloudy mornings and the cool breeze on my face,
running wild crossing the daily anticipations,
wishing to break free of all rules and regulations,
looking to go out there and explore the sky,
touch the clouds or simply fly,
The old cycle I took to school,
I just had to look cool,
would make faces to look serious,
while some girls went delirious,
make a promise each day,
to come back with a better bike someday,

the friends I made, those moments we played,
breaking window panes and then hiding,
the finding and the chiding,
again going back to doing the same thing,
coming back home with a bruise or two,
or just miss school pretending flu !

barely reaching the neighbors window,
a pair of eyes and eye brow,
peep inside with a look of lost and found,
explore up and down and all around,
blow vapor on the glass and leave a trace,
make a sun with a smiling face,
the feeling of someone standing behind,
it was time for the grind,
all of it happened so quickly,
turning around and smiling sheepishly,
those hastened heartbeats and frozen legs
then the sweaty palms and running legs ,

then running wild - wild running ,
reaching home puffing and panting,
holding the breath to sneak in quietly,
praying for some anonymity,
A tug on the collar,stopped the train,
thunder lightning and rain,
the cold shower with a garden hose,
need to get the clay off the clothes.

Looking pristine and angelic,
study times were oh so tragic,
the sleep came over,
but not before supper,
tucked in bed with a kiss,
this was true bliss,
back into my world of dreams,
chocolates pastries and ice creams


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It's 5AM and the clock is late,
the rush to dress up and change my fate,
but the wrinkle is annoying the mane,
and the greys are flaying the vein,
I carry the mirror in mind,
leave the resigned sigh behind.

The train is packed with eyes,
I stand under the strain of lights
the dark skin is brighter,
maybe they'll like me better,
their shampoos leave no clue,
only the fan comes to my rescue.

Waiting for the elevator,
a minty breath drifts over the shoulder,
the noose around my neck chokes
gasps for breath and the heart pokes
the lights are incandescent inside
empty faces on the outside.

The tube-light and the guard flickers
People wearing strange monikers
floating close to the floor
a door opens, the stupor
he sashays along leaving them behind,
my eyes lose him and hope to find.

Clocks go by and the hours shiver
the cardigan shrugs off and the  lips quiver
a sudden surge of reason, cold air ,
aimlessly slides off my ruffled hair
witness  to the porcelain teapot stare,
bits an…