Can we talk about us my friend?

Can we talk about us my friend?

After long you met me; like a song
in life filled with insurmountable
deep and never ending void.
as i looked into your eyes,
I felt my childhood running
down those small lanes
where the chocolate seller used
to live.
You used to give all to have them.

The bell of our school,
the long walks near the river
cycling back to home.
All remind me of you
but now you are not talking.

You are asking me about my job,
my wife and you think those are my life.
You talk about money, growth, town.
about death and afterlife.
I am holding my breath,
to listen my name.
I am not in those things
dear friend.
Can we talk about us my friend

I don’t live to buy a car
I not interested in some property;
you bought as investment so far;
I want to hear how the flowers smell
when we where young.
How we used look at girls in the park.
but you talk about the movie actor,
the new phone you gifted,
or how you spent your holiday in honolulu.
Can we talk about us my friend

How we used to spend our
lazy afternoon.
Kissing dew drop in the morning.
Sipping the sun in the spoon.
sleeping underneath the stars.
how you felt life was amazing
every moment with you around
was like a never fading star.
Can we talk about us my friend.

by Sameer Tembe

This entry was posted in Poetry on by .

About Sameer

Hi, I am from Mumbai (India). Film making is my passion and writing is a great relief. When ever I want to say something or felt about something I used to write poetry. I Started Writing poetry at an early age during school till now. Its the way to say what I feel most of the time about the things which happen around us, a unique way of sharing thoughts without being judgmental.

6 thoughts on “Can we talk about us my friend?

  1. Lokesh Roy

    This poem about the simple pleasures of life puts a stamp on the things which matter in life. We all know it, yet we are rather sceptical and even apprehesive to say as much. A poet is a philosopher who deeply perceives pleasure as well as pain. This spontaneous overflow of feelings is the hallmark of this poem.

    Reply

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