Of socks, shorts and shoes…

The 7 ages of man.

The master of words himself has preached.

Shakespeare is good read;

But in practice?

Not so for me.

Backpacks, socks, shorts and shoes-

These are a few of my favourite things.

Those Cuban cigars,

The tequila sunrise,

The twirling lanes,

The rendezvous in the dimply lit trains.

The flapper girl’s laugh,

The rolling seas

And the Mediterranean summers-

Ah. How I feel at home between those bummers.

They said to me—wanderers are without goals,

And vagabonds without homes.

But did they not know—

All those who wander are not lost?

Convention said—

Paperwork, utensils, routine, diapers and frames;

This is where it begins

And this is where it ends.

Whatever happened to ‘out of the box?’

Looks like it was meant for ‘school text only.’

Did not know that it came with a statutory warning—

Not to be tried outside school premises,

Else it would cause mourning.

Just for once I urge your soul,

Stop.

Look beyond your comfort zone;

Ponder and think over your life;

What is it but a fish getting fried?

How would it be if only you could break free?

Fly high as an eagle and soar to the sea??

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