But in time, I will.

 From concrete to trees.

Nothing could be better than that.

Your childhood home.

I remember everything well.

For every time we arrive there

all of you would stay downstairs

while all of us would go upstairs.

All the same people, just different stories.

From children to teenagers

teenagers to young adults

young adults to young parents

and we would still sit before the tube

and troll whatever is on air.

Growing old, but forever young still.

Carrom, TV series, KFC.

The things we do when we were young by age.

And every morning after

Breakfast bought from the markets.

Together.

Oh, I remember it well.

Yesterday I looked at him.

The sun shimmered. Such beautiful, peaceful evening it was.

And once more

I saw your smile

on his face.

The same smile

the same wrinkles

the same memories.

Once again, I saw you.

How I missed you, how it hurts, how hollow it made me feel

and surprisingly, how at peace I was when I saw it

and somehow I felt that

wherever you are

you are okay.

I saw those tears again.

Tears of love felt, memories remembered, broken walls.

Once more.

I would walk out, leaving time to dry those tears.

But after a while, I feel stupid.

Tears fade faster when it is wiped away than to be left dry.

Sorrow shared is half the pain.

Happiness shared is a dose doubled.

Too bad I am too greedy to even share