An Ode to My Childhood

Today, memories are looking through the glass,
Of the debates where no one would ever lose,
Of the evenings, where we always walked till the no man’s land,
Of the mornings, where the sun would melt in our eyes,
Of the nights, where the moon was right over our head,
Of the real stories about real people,
Narrated with passion,
Always with a glint in the eyes,
Of the white lies,
Of the black truths,
Of the magic webs,
Of the insane imagination,
Of no role models,
Of the stars that we always managed to count,
Of the moon who was at our beck and call,
Of the tears that could move the earth,
Of the laughter that could make the devil jealous.