Echoes of My Childhood

Faizat Hamzat

Those were times of serenity.

‎Times I read meanings into the clouds. ‎Times when the moon followed me. ‎

Times when bed-wetting was a delight, not a shame.

‎They are memories that can never return

‎The scent of hot morning puff-puff on the streets.

A time when we were all equal.

‎No social competition. No fashion race.

‎Those were times I was always lashed for roaming the streets,

But now, I’m scolded for not roaming them enough.

‎Who cared about money, ‎As long as sand still existed to mold castles

‎Those were times I wished I could trek home like every other kids.

“That is freedom,” I always thought.

‎Times I wished I could hawk instead of being in school.

‎If you ask me, childhood is innocent and pure.

Moments full of genuine laughter.

No malice. No competition.

‎Just happy kids, clad in undies.