Sometimes I wonder,
Are you still there,
Swinging on your gate,
Calling out to me to come and play,
When the moon was about to rise,
I ,torn between your call and mom’s,
Was unable to resist the temptation.
Each twilight mom stood at the gate,
With anxious expression for being late,
I promised to return before dawn,
Kept playing like an impish fawn,
Sometimes I wonder
Where have those days flown,
Like the birds gone to foreign lands ,
Long distant away in a migration,
Though a long time it may take,
They return to their favourite place,
Perhaps your voice will call me again,
From the creeks of the time bygone,
Still swinging on my mind’s gate,
Don’t you think it’s getting late,
Call before I get Heaven’s call.
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