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The early morning days of being woken up by smiling mom,
The small walk to the bus stop accompanied by smiling dad
The bus ride to the imposing gates of the monster school
The clinging of bells, the voice of the teacher in specs
The sharing of foil wrapped maggi with a friend so close
The drinking of hot water from the bottle in blue
The last period and the smile on face so cute
The evening prayer and the bus queue
As I grow up, I miss those days in small shorts
heavy sweaters, caring teachers, and a play time that was always short
In came the 12th and we found the world too small
no more small walk, no more wake up calls
A world of friends and flames
an evening of hangout spots and watching birds
an age of dreams to weave
an age of expressing love that was deep
an age of flying aspirations,
of worldly flavors and neighbour hood inspirations
the demon that was 12th board
the angel that was the subsequent result
as I grow up, I miss those days of attendance and rules
a life with friends, concerned teachers
of merry time that will never come back again
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