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I don’t see you different from love;
full of joy, thrill and magic, you are a circus,
packing up, ever on the move from place to place:
childhood, teenage, youth – filled with play and games,
running, laughter, excitement, charm and fun.
Sitting like a princess on the eye of the storm,
you enjoy to see us go round and round,
turbulent and merely raising sand and dust.
We do not surge forward,
there is always a retrograde motion.
You are a stream, when we bend and try
to see our face to recognize us from the reflection,
you don’t give us company, do not stay, ever flow on,
leaving the sands below for us your depth to measure.
Depths we can hardly measure,
nor we recognize us, our address we can’t ascertain,
aimless we travel, returning from where we reach,
carrying a backpack of hopes, dreams and many an aspiration.
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