It does not end with passing days,

If only we feel it's gone.

It is the childhood we say we miss,

But it never leaves us and with us it always walks on.

My age says I am an adult,

But what does an adult do differently I ask,

Have my choices changed I wonder,

I taste same chocolates and feel Alas!

My face may have got wrinkles,

But I too once had small fingers,

Then why people expect my outer actions to be different,

When my inner heart always tingles.

My Son today tells me how to carry his son,

When holding my fingers as a kid he had all the fun.

To him i am an immature though to me he's still a child now playing my part,

But does he not remember, it’s with me he walked this far.

I hear from all that it is a circle of life,

A kid of ten and a man of seventy are alike.

I believe,

It's just the count of years that we have named as age,

But every mind gets stuck in a dilemma-tic child or an adult maze.