You can take away my wealth
You can take my youth from me
But return me those childhood days
That monsoon rain
That paper boat floating in water
The neighborhoods oldest possession
That old lady we called grandma
Those wrinkles on her face
Stories of decades hidden in them
Long stories of heavens
Yet the nights were so short
Those dreams of heaven
Life was so content and so pure
Those hot summer afternoons
That catching of bu*terflies, then watching them fly away
Those fits of anger, throwing him away
That teddy called Robin, full of mud
Picking him up and caressing him again
Those white clouds I called haven
That bird called fairy taking me there
Fights over life that was pretend
Suddenly changing into friendships again
Fights over the swings
That falling from the swings and getting up again
Neither were the sorrows of life
Nor were the strains of relationships
Words of mother so proud
Little boy of mine would go far, very far in life
How true were those words who knows