Treehouse
In the treehouse, we used to play,
hands dipped in paints and statues of clay.
Playing with the dollhouse, eating rice and curd,
I remember how treehouse became our world.
She planned things and I worked them to reality.
we had the small gang. Just me and her smiling perfectly.
But then one day, she went somewhere,
without telling, as if she didn't care.
She left with the countless memories.
And left me in infinite miseries.
She left me so saddened,
and I pity, when I see my treehouse so abandoned.
....
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