for S

This  is an imagined reality
where  you never left the city,  
and we aren’t  just strangers turned acquaintances turned friends
who crossed paths a few months ago.  

In this little world I’ve built in my head,  
we're childhood friends on a rickety old school bus,  
always claiming the last row like it's our throne.  
We share tiffins packed with love, your mom’s aloo parathas, my poha
trading bites and secrets with equal delight.  
We blow bubblegum balloons till they pop on our faces,  
and laugh so hard our tummies hurt.  
We gossip about teachers, Miss Sharma’s funny glasses,  
and how Mishra sir always forgets the homework he assigns.  

We plan our grand summer vacations like little adventurers;
you to your nani's house with mango trees and cool verandas,  
me to the hills with deep valleys and hot chocolate.  
We make silly drawings on the fogged-up bus windows,  
play hand clap games till our palms sting,  
and race paper boats in the puddles after rain.  

We dream out loud  
you want to be an astronaut with your own spaceship,  
and I, want to open a roadside foodtruck or be a  magician.  

I still like your voice in this made up world,  
where everything is a little softer, a little simpler.  
And I’m writing this while sitting in the train,  
watching the city fade behind me  
just like you did, not so long ago.  

But in this small, timeless corner of my heart,  we never said goodbye.  
©Arshad