When you think of me someday,

Would I be the kid with hidden treasure

Neatly buried at the backyard?

Or would I be the 'boring' old gran

Repeating the same old stories from start?

Would you think of me

Like the nightmare that never lets you sleep?

Or the torn old denim

That you love so deep?

Like a fading morning dream. Fading?

-Abhishikta