The memoirs of bygone days

are reaching me again in a festive dream

The sunlight, the breeze of a calm day, the gossamers of innocent laughters-

are all but echos coming from mountains of reminiscences


All those quaffs of fondness and merrymakings

and the endless dreaming of this fumbling self

are contained in a sandclock

that must have been through

And now, on this sunny day when all seem to be gay and free

The dreams of those bygone days are calling out-

all squabbling and playing once again,

thwarting the veil of counterfeit happiness on my face


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