I climbed down
the basement of my heart,
dusted off its corners
and made a little home:
Good old days!
I can smell its fragrance;
its aura feels familiar.
Whenever going gets tough..
and world feels weary..
I come to fetch the life-drink
in the reservoir of my adolescence;
a magical potion concocted by time.
When misery engulfs..
I visit the old times.
The high-spirits of the Old Love:
How I want its unflinching faith!
its resolute hope against all odds!
that strength of a fragility
to let go...
yet hang on to
dear life!
there!
the tonic I was looking for..
Saravanan
