Those were the Days

Those were the days
when the hundred bubbles we blew into the vacant air,
reflected the world in myriads of colours.
Feeling the April wind brushing past our unruly hairs,
we watched the rustling leaves shadow-dancing on the whitewashed walls,
under the golden rays of a dozing sun;
Long mid-summer evenings spent in the now-absent backyard.

Every passing second was a memory to keep,
As for now, we take long walks and
detailed glances at the moments we museumised;
It takes ages to walk past these sun-filled corridors
Yet so young, untouched by time.