Spring is just a beginning of heat,
Childhood memories are little salty, little sweet.
There was a platform, beneath the tree,
where we played carrom and life was free.
It was just happiness what we seek,
Everybody knew us as herd of freaks.
Was Childhood an Illusion or a magic trick,
that spring ends just in a flick.
It’s thew life which has all kind of flames,
why do I curse time which has no blame.
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