He was twenty ‘n’ five- that is, when he first spoke;
Those words which were the emblem of fervency
His exact words?
‘Life challenges like a mirage;
Face them headlong
Running towards them and they disappear’
The philologist in me is tempted,
Tempted to unravel the mystery of his quoted phrase oh so critically,
They hold unscalded truth, so really can I?
Twenty ‘n’ five we are, when we make choices;
Choosing our paths: stepping into those paths ridden with footsteps of pioneering warriors,
Or driven by dissatisfaction, we forge ours in fire.
Twenty ‘n’ five, is golden.
Through my myopic eyes, a fleeting image of a little boy is formed on my retina A little boy in a little suit, Treading the familiar bushy routes before him The boy had neither escort nor directives And surely, he needed none For a 4 yr old on the road possesses more maturity than a 10 year old in ‘comfort’ Swiftly, she navigated through cars held in traffic An adventurous smile tugging at her split lips Providing snacks for impatient car-owners And though panting from car-chasing, She had a visible life of passionate content She probably planned to get off the street, Forsake her hypothetical ‘street-urchin boyfriend’, Give up this demeaning way of living, But I feared she wouldn’t! She hadn’t been wired to get off the street And sadly, she was too content to stage a forced exit. Children on the road and teenagers of the road, Not choosing to be this vulnerable Yet hooded and shrouded in the cold, Filled with shreds of hope that the fut...
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