Nostalgia

A Poem by Raman arora

Silent nights,
without crude shouts of drunkards.
And useless merry making of neighbours,
is a rare occurrence these days.
But I think,
even fate is on my side tonight.
It's my favourite kind of night,
withthe hint of
freshly watered earth in the air.
After weeks of ignorance,
I slowly climbed the stairs, it's quarter past twelve.
I spent hours on the roof top,
with breeze playing
with my hair and stars twinkling in the sky,
Completing her playful nature.
My battered trusty phone hummed,
some old songs nearby.
The music knew the breeze
better than I did afterall.
These two will remain always together,
while I leave for mother home.
I stuff my hands inside my pockets,
And shut out the agony of saying goodbye.
Perhaps,
growing up was a horrible idea afterall.