The friend and the lover are many miles away,So, to an Amy Winehouse tribute, I sway.
In old friends and stories of the past, I find jest,
But in their present and its stories I’m just a guest.
The late night Bangalore breeze sweeps across my face,
Memories threaten me like poison but I face them with grace,
In their entirety they remind me of times spent finding a solution,
To the many puzzles thrown at me and that one tough question.
Is there an easy way out of all this muck and confusion,
In a way that I’m a survivor, proud and free, and not just a pale intrusion,
Into the lives of the many I believe I have touched,
Or maybe those that I have imagined and whose happy memories I have fudged.
There is a silver lining, rainbow or revival thrown in somewhere here,
In the rock solid friend with his colourful beliefs who lives near,
Or the brave and beautiful girl whose love I may lose, I fear,
Or maybe it’s just in me, broken and tattered, deep down, waiting for one last cheer.