Fragment of an Incomplete Soul

Beginning from the day we met,
Events infinite have ensued.
Similar thoughts and tastes made us bond.
The passage of time made us grow fond (of one another).

Finding a person who reflects us,
Rarely do we find such a great mirror.
Instilling sense when we make a fuss,
Elevating the spirit when we make an error.
Not just a fragment of an incomplete soul.
Devoid of him/her life's but a gaping hole.

Immortal

Fragrance of beautiful flowers,
Rhythm of the running brook,
Invite me for a lively fiesta.
Enchantingly sweet music,
Never ceasing cool breeze,
Deviate me from my brief siesta.
So many works that need to be done,
Happily though do I avoid them.
Instead I log into Facebook to create some
Precious memories with you people.

To AVMR With Love

The stars my teacher gave me
For the high marks I scored,
The names my friends gave me
For my antics,
The numerous quarrels with my classmates,
The numerous doodles in my class notes.
How will I ever forget?
How can I even forget?

The sandwiches we made on Saturdays,
The Bhajans we sang on Thursdays,
The Quran verse we recited on Fridays,
The good old speeches we gave on birthdays.
How will I ever forget?
How can I even forget?

The computer games we played in the mornings,
The 'violent' games we played in the breaks,
The instruments we played in functions,
The pranks we played on friends.
How will I ever forget?
How can I even forget?

The 'poetry' WE sang on the stage,
The crushes we harboured in that age,
The words we uttered in a rage,
The rabbits that were kept in a cage.
How will I ever forget?
How can I even forget?

The camps we Scouts and Guides attended,
The songs 'the three of us' invented,
The first rank for which we contented, and
The various things on which we commented.
How will I ever forget?
How can I even forget?

The medals I never won,
The books I always won,
The unmatchable, great fun,
The crazy things we all had done.
How will I ever forget?
How can I even forget?

I'm what I'm because of our school,
Where freedom was always the primary rule.
Our teachers' motivation that served as a fuel,
Now make my tears form a pool.
I miss those days.
They bring a smile to my face,
We may go in our own ways,
Still we're the beautiful flowers of a beautiful vase.