Your steady fingers have left stains on my heart.
I suppose that’s why they call it an *****,
because you seem to play it so well.

Take me back to the days
When we were artists
With the clouds as the paint,
With the sky as the canvas;
Who sang their hearts out
In front of the electric fan
Which became the microphone and auto-tuner.
Take me back to the days
When we were adventurers
Who ran outside after morning showers to
Find the end of the rainbow
Hoping to meet a fellow
Who can grant our greatest wish
That tomorrow would be sunnier than today;
Who balanced between life and death
Every grocery shopping with our mothers
As we carefully tried to avoid the lines of the tiles which
We believed was made up of deadly red lasers.
Take me back to the days
When we were heroes:
Scientists who calculated the intensity of the rain
In the race of raindrops that
Roll down the car window
In the pouring traffic jam.
Ninjas who would wake up early to
Catch the floating dusts that swim in the sun's rays
When you open the curtains of the wide window.
Generals of an army who built
Mighty forts of cotton and feathers and
Found safety beneath warm pillows and sheets
On dark and windy nights.
Take me back to the days
When we were
Engineers,
Doctors,
Politicians,
Pilots,
Astronauts, and
Teachers
Take me back to the days
When we were
*Who we wanted to be.

Pleasant surprises never come to me and
Pessimism is how I learned to survive
So forgive me if I show doubt my darling
I haven't felt this happy for a very long time