An old man, going a lone highway,
Came, in the evening, cold and gray,
To a valley, vast, and deep, and wide,
Through which was flowing an angry tide.

The old man crossed it in the twilight dim;
The angry stream had no fears for him;
But he turned, when safe on the other side,
And built a bridge to span the tide.

"Old man," said an angel, near,
"You are wasting strength by building here;
Your journey will end with the night today;
You will never again pass this way;
You have crossed the stream, deep and wide-
Why build a bridge at this evening time?"

The builder lifted his old gray head;
"Good friend, in the path I have come," he said,
"Youth will follow after me today,
Whose feet must pass this way,
This stream, that has been fair to me,
To that youth, may not be.
He, too, must cross in the twilight dim;
Good friend, I am building the bridge for him."

Why is it that you have become less and less like me,
When happiness was what we used to glean.
Why is it that you like to live a routine,
When all we dreamed was The Paradise green.

Why is it that the child that yearns is suppressed in,
When living with him was like being a King.
Why is it that the-fear-of-unknown rooted deep within,
When exploring wilderness was the best thing.

Why is it that naughtiness, A relic of the past,
When dripping with it was our only task.
Why is it that other’s verdict your stand-fast,
When gripping criticism was like hearing Basque.

Why is it that time has become such a precious thing,
When passing it with me was the only dream.
Why is it that future has become an important thing,
When living in our present was our only theme.

Why is it that you need to take out time for fun,
When joying was the only thing we began.
Why is it that you have started to plan a run,
When planing a thing was considered a pun.

I am waiting here for you to call,
A chance perhaps to live it all.
The Paradise we made is still serene,
When you feel like it, just give me a ring.

I will always be here for you to call
With a hope that you will break the-grownup-fall.

By the shore I was wandering,
Searching for some ray.
For some hope in all the grey.

Life's untold mystics seem to have been missed,
For some reason they seem to have stopped to exist.

Yearning for some mystery, in the land of grown ups.
Wanting some companion for my inner cub.

I saw her starry eyes, her smiling grace,
A reason in itself, worthy of all praise.

True to her name she was an angel in a mass,
Her nature, in a different class.

She was like my missing friend from past,
Someone I will never forget until I last

She made my existence worthwhile,
A reason she gave me, to smile.

I wish her name.... I wish her fame..
And for what I can, I gift her a name
DANIELA.... The smiling flame

As I lay in my bed, raising slow,
I think of 24 hours to go.
The day has started, lazy with a drool
Has it lasted for 24 hours full

There were days I remember now,
when up I was like a spring bomb.
But today is not one of those days,
has I still dream of being calm.

I got to the place where I load the routine,
Trying to be unique, in the morning din.
I look for a familiar, with a sweet smile,
I get one back, with a morning hail.

As I reach my stage, I begin my mile,
To make it to five with at least a smile.
A dialogue a conclave with one or two,
I feel like being treated amongst worth few.

In noon it is time for slice to devour,
Imagine! Hardly any hours left to endeavor.
As the clock strikes the beloved hour,
Blessed are those who leave the tower.

I am left in the tower to boil,
Few loyal to aid my toil.
The day goes on with out crazy thoughts
As it lasts for twenty four hours

It is time to go back to my shack,
With thoughts of going back into the sack.

Evening or night I cannot tell,
As I ride partially dead,
Hunger drives me to fix a meal,
As shabby as it is for a princely being.

In night I am calm again,
For tomorrow it will all begin.
A hope, tomorrow will have some exciting quirk,
A thought of another 24 hours lurk.