HR 12

Bring me back to life to those summer times

I still live here; in your head

These recent times might have made me soft

But I ain’t dead.

When we ran on those lanes where we belonged

And fell together and bled

When the coffee tasted sweeter & the movies more intriguing

Where waters ran deeper

And low moments fleeting

Where cuss words were more & rarely meant

Where most problems were dealt with hands

Take me back, friend. Lets not pretend.

Where brotherhood meant more than real blood

Where force was all we needed to free the unstuck

Where we gave no flying mother flying fucks

Morning parathas & evening soda shop “jaams”

Subah me jaari ar shaam me saang

Where the real luxury vehicles were our black scooties

Where we spoke broken English but still called our crush out loud as “are cuutie!”

Triplings the norm, us kings of heart

No one dumb enough to sabotage us apart.

The birds flew free & the soil smelled of home

Smoke in the air & wind in the songs

Take me back where I belong

Take me back……

home.

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