One walk
At the beach,
We’re old and frail
And fashionably nonchalant.
You let go off my hand,
As soon as we near the waters.
For our interests differ,
While I make slow steps,
Towards the vast blue expanse,
You watch me go and smile,
Turn around,
Walk towards the Tulips,
Growing in a bunch on the side.

My aching knees,
Do not let me go further,
Than just a few steps down in water,
And your sore back,
Lets you pick hardly two
Of those fragrant flowers.

So we return,
Back in hand together,
My other hand stiffly holding,
Your Tulips,
that I’ve grown to love more each day.

Though my heart is set,
On the distant horizon,
Where the orange sky,
Shares its colours with the sea,
Your eyes catch a glimpse of all those wonders,
Just from the reflection of mine.
And all we do,
Is stand facing each other,
Memories flooding us,
Just like the ocean’s waves,
Hitting our feet at intervals,
And the last mighty one,
Taking us all the way back,
To the first time we ever walked,
Over the warm sand,
Building sandcastles,
And collecting shells,
Listing out dreams
And throwing them into the sea,
Hoping that one fine day,
Like a driftwood,
That often returns back,
To the beach it set sail from,
Our souvenirs too,
Would return,
And we’d be there,
To watch the sea,
paint our colours.


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