A bit here, a bit there….
A kiss here, a hit there….
Bull shit, there is a fair share….
Forcibly writing a verse is a nightmare….
It goes back to the school days….
From school to house, there were many ways….
You chose the one, which had most fun….
Friends were in, Romans and countrymen were out….
If somebody passed a snide remark, you were always ready for a bout….
Ohh this is so sick, rhyming away like a prick….
Still you go through the torture <no rhyming word found>
Would I wish all those days would come back? I won’t give it a thought….
Memories are more cherished in hindsight, reality is not…
Ginger tea, onion pakoras, UCO bank playground..these I remember the most…
To Meks, Pakki, Sriks and the experience I am having with them – I would raise a toast….
Teachers there were, but more of a friend and a guide….
Spending time with them was always a joy ride….
Now I am gonna stop this..for this is so juvenile….
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