They haven’t fallen through the cracks

Here I sit on the corner of the bed;

In the middle of the night

All alone, with an avalanche of thoughts

About the old times; some old faces

Flowing in an undulating motion

They haven’t fallen through the cracks.

Like flip-flop they came upon my mind

I recalled the cordial ‘convos’

The mid night jamborees

The plates we shared

The glasses we clinked

Our travails as ‘young blood’

They haven’t fallen through the cracks.

Mind-bogglingly, times flew in quick time;

Days went swiftly;

Weeks rushed through;

Months raced inordinately;

Years gone like a pacey story;

And I never see your faces

Memories are all I have got

They haven’t fallen through the cracks.

Indubitably, we have become busy bees

We ‘hunker down’ everyday

Cracking to make a name

We used to ‘holler’ every so often

Back in the days we were ‘young blood’

Now we ‘hello’ once in a blue moon

We’re engulfed in endless promises to ring back

Our friendships have become endangered species

They haven’t fallen through the cracks.

I’m sick of this derisible game

These endless promises to ring back; the lip services

But tomorrow comes; and it goes

We are still our old persons; new wines in old bottles

Our closeness depreciates

Distance among us widens and enlarges

We are left with the memories of the past

With the future dreary and forlorn

Is that what we merit in the end?

They haven’t fallen through the cracks.

© 19.09.12