With the Flow

Sipping the cans of beer, we call it a day.

We sat in silence, watching the sunset by the banks of the gently flowing river.

“Remember those good old days when we as kids, used to hide by those huge rocks, right there?

Our mothers would come scoring down on us for having player by the river side again, i muse.

Thrashed again, we would giggle a good night to each other!

I used to collect those weird looking pebbles that used to get washed ashore.

And you would come up with some wonderfully coloured ones to add to my treasure trunk. Though “stones” you would snort, we had enjoyed this silly hobby!

Remember those scary monsoons, where the river swell threateningly! Where the rocks we used to hide beside would disappear tragically?

Oh also, remember how during summers, the water would shrink to a level so comforting that I could happily collect those pebbles and watch those tiny fishes hobble by!

It all seems like yesterday!

I wish life hadn’t changed so much for us.

You know, just you and me would have felt just perfect!”

I look down at those cans of beer, knowing that the second was also mine.

I stand up slowly, taking a dreary step towards where you lay, still.

I place those flowers at your tombstone like I always did.

I sit by you and tell you the stories of the fiver again,

The river that took you from me, forever!

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