I see you still, dripping cold rainwater,

As you walk in weary, thin with shivers

Trailing  trumpets of  laughters

Rebukes and miseries,

Enthralled to summer

A rod and a bucket, a scrawny memory

Of a fish you felt was meagre

Enough to warrant a pardon

From consumptive sniggers as

Its bones cut our fingers.

Your little, immature souls were great,

You later learned the word magnanimous’

Bewildering Latinate simplicity

As was your pity


So intertwined because you were world.

And then we all grew up.