In those old glass stains, I used to imagine
A buddha, a tortoise and a little bit of magic
That ghost of the old mango tree where I used to live
The shadow of it still percolates through the window sill
Just above the stairs, in that hidden little corner
I had imagined a life, just like a dreamer
The world around used to be different
With smiles, love and everything vibrant
The colors have changed, so have the people
The love has changed, so has the seeker
This no longer is the home to me
My childhood ghost has been set free
Someday if I return with the ashes of thee
Maybe they'll see the real me
Till then let it burn, the fragments of hope
The swing, the tree and the hanging rope
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