The story started old,
Now, every memories seems like gold,
We were then youthful,
Met each other with feeling not trustful.

Days started rolling,
With buzzing of our timer, till night meeting,
We used to hex on all,
Minds not ready for discipline.
The stories of our morning,
And bunking of daily plan,
We made our own stories,
Which now flourish as memories.

The evenings made us realise,
That paper decides our going outside,
We felt our life was worst,...