![](https://irc.uniglobecollege.edu.np/wp-content/uploads/2024/05/Tayosha-Gautam.jpeg)
It’s finally getting colder,
The rain smells sweet and I feel older.
The months go by so quickly,
Yet I cannot remember how it tasted like on the tip of my tongue.
I feel lost.
Lost within the constellations of my thoughts
That are constantly dead and reborn
And collect wisdom through a channeled intelligence
And it feels almost foreign to my being.
Within my two calloused hands,
I hold them like they’re about to leave.
Just like I’ve always did,
Just like every other thing I’ve let go of
Have my teeth dug deep within.
There’s a window beside my bed
And it’s tainted and all blurry,
Shaded by pouring waters of sweet and sour melancholy.
Yet the sun still finds its way inside
And keeps me warm and makes me shine twice as bright.
And I feel inside,
A soul of a buried child
So bruised and fragile
And when the nights are cold and dry,
She worries about if I’m doing alright.
That little child lets out a familiar cry
One of my own.
It’s mine, It’s mine, It’s mine.
Although in an older body,
I’m still that little child.
Oh! how I’m still that little child.
On days I cry, and I am weak inside
My eyes sparkle a little with her hopeful eyes
I hear her speak her old tales of time
She tells me of all my might
Whispers of hope, she caresses me
It’s alright, it’s alright, it’s alright.
Today she still speaks inside
Mumbled and soft, yet loud and high
When I’m intermingled within,
Trapped and worried for I can’t decide
Between who I am and who I try.
As the numbers keep counting by
With every throb of my heart,
She catches my younger years
And always tries, she always tries.
Oh God, she always tries.
And she always seeking for something new,
Above and beyond the average view
And when the rain-drop falls tonight
I’ll be the one holding this time
And before she does, I’ll ask her if she’s alright.
Although today I’m worn and need more love
I’ll empty mine to fill her cup.
And stitch her wings all day and night
Because for this time I hope she flies,
Soaring high and crossing by.
And although gone, she will still be here
Layers, layers towering yet beneath still here
And as I peel myself, skin and all
I’ll lay my bones far from the rot
Because she is me and I am her.
Yes, I’m carved into something new
But she deserves recognition too.
So, I’m writing this to her place
I did leave you long ago, but this time
A proper goodbye to the buried little child.
By: Tayosha Gautam (Science, H2)