I miss those days when money meant nothing,
When fun was all that matters and met the eyes,
When happiness was glooming at it’s peak,
While we rolled tyres on the streets of clay.
I miss those days of peeping through the window,
While we pass letters below the net,
When we seat at the backyard in circles,
While we play rollie rollie together.
I miss those days we wrap our books with newspapers,
Those days we write and underline our names in blues and reds,
Those days we would barge into any beer parlour,
Just to pick up bottle covers to form new table soccer teams.
Those were the days you’d happily grind chalks on papers,
And puff them out like cigarettes,
Those memories can never be traded,
Not even for something worth than gold.
The Giant Pen,
Giant Ink Making Impact,
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