I walk into that room, all dark and so familiar.
A gleam of light passing through those scruffy windows,
Through those windows where the child clung onto back then,
Giggling at the passerby time and again.
In the room lingered the scent of past!
The books, the wardrobes, and the shelves covered in dust!
Perhaps it was just dust, but to me, it was rather a shield,
Treasuring my memories of the curiosity of a child!
I flipped those tattered pages and felt those meal stains of a messy child like me.
I went back to those nights where stories of Enid Blyton took me to nonexistent lands!
To the nights where I sat by the window sill, smiling at the stars,
Wondering if they were holy souls just like my mother told me.
I looked around and stared at these walls.
Everything around was so worn out and yet everything reunited.
It is all so overwhelming where these walls are withered, and I was touching these traces of my notorious doodling.
These walls are so withered and yet it treasured the playfulness of a child.
Everything around was so silent, but I heard so many voices within me!
I saw the bedside clock and went back in time.
To the times where nightmares shook my peaceful sleep!
To the times where I would gaze at the ticking clock, imagining me being near the rivers and watching the mountain sheep!
I am here now beside the same ticking clock.
Where time is way ahead and yet feels so still!
It has been hours being here.
And the child in this room never seemed to disappear.
Towards the same window, I go, resting on the sill.
It were those nights again of gazing at the stars for endless hours!
Let this sky be my dream every night.
Let the dust on these old books and wardrobes remain priceless.
Let the scent of past remain safeguarded behind these closed doors.
Let today and forever, Nostalgia be my safe place!