The yesteryear puddle was so clear.
I could spot anything saying it's here!
The grudges and aspirations were never there.
Moments of tranquillity and reasons for joy were everywhere.
Even when the native countenance lured me.
The search for creative excellence was always key.
Though that elusive grace was beyond reach.
There were opportunities akin to a silvery beach.
Oh boy! growing up was a Himalayan ordeal.
The nostalgia is what I deem even more cruel.
Should I look at it like the diabolic Sandy?
Or a treasure trove of learning that's nothing but ...