The Child in me.

Evening’s outside ;

The Orange glow of the sun,
Children having fun
Clouds emerging from rays of light
As the world moves on from day to night.

And of the Children that played there
One  would sit alone and stare
His face, devoid of joy
He was only still a boy.
Only still a boy.

He sat, lost
With the moon to his left and the sun to his right….


What could have been the dawn,
Was only but an explosion
It marked the end of something
It Marked the death of the day.
It marked the death of his childhood.

And the man stood and stared at the moon-lit ground
The Children had gone,
And the Child in him had moved on.
-Anirudh Shankaran.


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