Happy birthday my dearest...
Thus we come to the 6th year where we have been inseparably close.
Friend, no.
Lover, no.
Soulmate maybe?
Heavens only know.
But such has been our friendship that if
I cry, you have a bucket,
And I'll probably hit you for teasing me
With the same bucket.
You laugh, I'll have toothpaste,
And you'll probably throw it at my head
For daring to speak on golden teeth.
We fight, we both run away,
And we come back, patch up,
And then run off in the same direction-
Probably to the same beach where it all started.
We have so many memories of it.
Good ones, bad ones,
Getting-washed-away ones,
Covered-in-sand ones;
Two wild kids looking for fun.
I shall say this right now -
You are not my brother.
We may have grown up together,
From awkward teenage where
You started with a sweet line
And I put pepper on it,
To mature young adults
Where we keep breaking hearts
And get our hearts broken.
Maybe it is better to say,
Young adults getting their first taste
Of responsibilities and time crunches
Yet throwing it all off for one,
Just one hour in the sand.
Or on a car seat.
Or on a hard rickety chair
At some sharjah shop.
A valued one hour.
Make it three if we're
Skipping classes to chill.
So many memories and gifts.
Our tastes are oh-so-different.
I do not do girly,
Yet you persisted in making me
And finally when I managed
To develop a sense of feminity,
You mourn the bratty tomboy.
And make renewed efforts in
Finding her. For fun.
You know me better than
You know yourself.
You do not do
Dressed-up-peacock,
Yet I persisted in making you
And when you finally managed
To develop a sense of masculinity,
I mourn the muddy little boy.
And make renewed efforts in
Finding him. For fun.
I know very few or none
As well as I know you.
The beautiful gifts.
A song dedicated.
A handmade card.
A diary of us.
Most of all, time.
From you to me.
It cannot even be compared with
A small poem,
A small letter,
A football tshirt I hoped you'd love.
But most of all, time.
From me to you.
Selfishly guarded and loaned,
Yet if you needed, you need,
I believe you know,
One phone call is more than
Enough.
Tell me who hurt you,
I shall bury them alive in words and writing.
I'm scared to tell you though, my dear,
You might just bury them alive.
Love you.
To a best friend, my familiar stranger,
(Because you keep growing up!)
A note to say, I love you.
You told me in December,
The last month of the year, that,
Disillusioned, you have found out,
There are things only money can buy.
That maybe love and dedication
Just isn't enough. Yet, I cannot
Completely agree. Money is just a means
To an end. There is no eternity.
Yet, I know what you meant and where
And how. I don't know how to
Convince you now.
I don't know how to convince you,
That people respect and value you
But they cannot believe in your goodness,
Maybe they have been told otherwise in life;
That people don't mean to use you
But they do not know how to express,
Or they feel they lack time for appreciation;
That whatever you do honestly, sincerely,
It will matter for a long time,
Even after you leave, the ones who matter,
They're going to say, you were here.
