Little things,
of enormous weight
Lie cluttered,
across slippery time
Who like dripping drops,
with their past, rhyme

As the friendly study table,
silently moulted wood-dust
Kitten-y childhood of two,
slowed into,
feline youths of one
Stickers, posters,
paintings, drawings - they did fade
Coz for colours youth paints,
brushes there invade

Tomorrow I return,
and on my room, the door shall close
and my childhood friends -
pen stands, beds, chairs, windows
will silently mourn
Cursing the shackles
that forbid them,
from joining me along

But wooden they are,
not knowing,
that many hells worse
is roaming the world,
with the soul forever shackled
to where your first steps unfold