Ode to childhood for grown-ups: A poem 

Reflecting through the wrinkles and greying curls 

and feeling the immense sadness of girls 

who lost out on love. And remembering those dolls 

like a remote to childhood joys; breaking an adult’s walls 

Even as childhood died, and boyhood flied 

there is a mind-screen that abandons life’s disguise 

Digging up dressers for old clothes, to feel the skies 

open up to the wind that says a child still survives 

Abrogate the adage that everyone and everything grows old 

In the cup of golden rhyme, reason and logic are sold 

that even if we can’t wrap the long spells of the cold, 

we can unravel the threads from where warmth unfolds 

Every bead of glass in the chain becomes a pearl 

And the humble soldier becomes his own earl 

Gratitude to each moment of growing up is an honour 

to the parents who were this sacred life’s donors