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The Green Vase

When we are young, we laugh and learn,

About matters of great consequence.

And the greatest problems are posed by girls with pigtails,

Whispering and giggling at our reddening faces.

Trees climbed; and fallen from...

Knees grazed, knuckles bruised.

Ant-hills trodden on; some barefoot...

Tears shed. Lessons learnt.

And vases broken; Mamma’s favourite

The green vase.


Then we ‘grow up’. We become mature,

And childish games are forgotten, forever.

Love’s found; hearts broken; yet we live on, heartless.

Long walks in the park; many an ice cream shared.

Many an endless conversation turned into nothing.

And the past is forgotten.

Even the vase; Mamma’s favourite –

The green vase.


Finally, we become old. And for the first time –

Life is so simple.

Everyone’s gone. No traces of a life that was.

Where did those days go... the good ol’ days.

And then you realise that your day has passed.

It’s time to move on now...

And through memories lasting till forever,

After all these years, you understand...

Broken vases don’t come back.

Even after a lifetime; Even Mamma’s favourite –

The green vase.




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