You and I,
who never believed
ghosts existed
neither angles
in our childhood  

You and I,
who never believed
a star will fall from the sky
on the other side of the horizon
and make our beautiful imaginations  
come true,
even in our dreams  

You and I,
who carries practicality
in our pockets and
categorized ourselves
according to weight of our wallets  

could never understand  

why a girl
at her 5, 25 or even at 70    
a girl
at her  highest level of maturity
search madly
in each corner of the city
for a particular coloured thread
from thousands and thousands    

and I hardly understand
how she decides
what will look best
on her brother's wrist  

The boy who is still struggling
to take care of his hairs or wardrobe
from where he gains
the courage
to say a girl
don’t worry
for anything
I am here
and wherever you need
I will be there    

You and I
could never understand
why a mature girl’s smile  
seems childish
and why a childish boy’s  smile
seems filled with responsibilities  

when she ties the coloured thread
on his wrist