The Friend and the Lover..

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. 

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The Friend and the Lover..

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