The Morning Man

He greeted me when we met this morning, No handshake. Just a 'Hello' And while we stood there, In perfect stance, I studied him a bit more. He seemed calm, cool and collected, And yet, his eyes revealed immature youth. He seemed to care little of what others thought. His half-hearted smile screamed in sooth. He seemed innocent, Untouched by a world of worries. Happy-go-lucky, Unaffected by a hell of hopes, And atleast he tried to be a realist, For every thought I thought. But the colour of dreams, Had left him stained, Stained in shades only he knew to be true. Stained in shades that captured me Grew me wings, enthralled me too. They trapped me, Grappled with my everyday act, And told me about the secret, unbreakable pact That we once had made A million memories ago To 'Stay True and Be You' Graffitied, college decor, By two young boys, With black hoodies donned, In the mid of night, Hiding from torches that shone. And that was all I needed to know, So I looked at him, Before we got ready to go. And as I turned away from the silvered glass, We both nodded each other Goodbye and Good Luck. Out the door, I stepped that morn, With half a mask, And half forewarned. But I remembered that secret, unbreakable pact, Two young boys had made With spirits intact. And so I greet him when we meet each morning. No handshake, of course, Just a 'Hello'. And while we stand, In perfect stance, I rediscover myself a bit more.