Ten days of a child once more,
Fresh in my mind,
Alas have crossed the shore,
And footprints are all I find.
What was absent with this sunrise?
Devoid of moisture in the dew,
And with its disguise,
Away they flew.
Time the infinite,
Changes every season,
But so do the colors of a kite,
Which oft find no reason.
To be a child again,
Another tryst with reminiscence,
Dancing in the rain,
Are hopes of innocence.
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