Memoirs

Eighteen is a difficult age.You honestly seem to be standing in the middle of nowhere. Abandoned and alone. Sure there are the loved ones around you but honestly you are alone. Not to mention all those thoughts cooking up in your head.
Papers. Admissions. Universities' due dates. Entry tests. Merits. Result.  
The haphazardness and nausea of it all. The 'what will become of me?'s and 'what should I do?'s.
It's like being in an endless circle of sleepless nights, fear and prayers. 
And to top it all of, you are an adult. The trap. 


Anyways, here is a poem, (was that kind of abrupt?) 

Like smiling sunshine and rusted frames,
With memories clogged and grayed
Of those mystical times and hours splayed
Mesmerizing and captivating in ages today.
Of eyes that glazed on every good bye,
Of the thrilling adventures filled with ecstatic smiles.
Like golden dust splattered on a sad sky
Like blissful breeze when lone and tired.
The little clouds of dust that fly 
When heavenly drops fall from the sky
When we all laughed not caring of tomorrow
Then was the time when there were truly no sorrows.


Momina.