Childhood games

I still have your autograph, hidden beneath the peels
Of memory too dusty to see, smell
touch. The childish scrawl that writ on
old basketball courts, toddler numerals
nursed in square cradles we struggled
to jump out of. A wallet, stone, or beanbag
chronicling our paths, where we had been and
Who. Sometimes overstepping the mark, others
Losing balance and treading, into
each other’s personal space,
the security of having two feet on the ground.
Till the end, when rules forbid
us to look back, granting only the occasional
Brush, the disconsolation of material on skin,
Cursory smiles overarched into a frown.
we rummage for future’s promise.


A grid of memories, peppered by time.
................Your house.
....and Mine..............adjoining
................But never
................called
................upon.