Friends...

You meet, you greet,

You introduce, you smile.

The first time you meet a person,

Judge them to be honest or vile.

I did so with many

And ended liking only a few

Maybe coz they never liked me

Or maybe I had seen them through.

I have friends I could count on my fingertips

I have friends I could submit to

I have friends who even if shout at me

I would still go back to.

But irony is such that we are all nomads

None fixed in the places I met them, grew fond of them, and giving them there valued places

We now can’t even meet at the choice of your whim

Let aside pinching, tickling, mocking just to see their irritated faces.

I miss those days with them when I am sad

I miss those days with them when I feel alone

But I miss them more when I know it’s your special day

And had I been there, you are immensely special to me, you would have known.