Like the strings of an old guitar,you ring in my senses.
Dexterity of my emotions are manifolding the art fragile
Pages of that old brown book,is speaking of the time's patience.
still its holding our short conversations with its beguile...

Truly years after I may find you way mature
But whenevr i will see you through the pages of my old brown book..
i will find you always that symphonic .always in your tinkling rapture..
.however the pages may get torned ,i know how much effort we have took.

Evening full of fun ,full of rubbish talks....
sometimes we wonder "where from do we get the stocks"
a sip of hot tea and bite of fruit cake...
where will the time lead and take!!!

From adolesence till old crooked age...
we will spent our moments together..
Life is wonderful. full of bubbles and lather.
Still one evening through the window pane ;i will gaze...Thinkwhether the moments are still alive ??? whether .....Think.................