Since then we still talk for at least 4 hours a day.
As long as I was talking to him I did not know the time ....
She is words awakened a poet in me ..
Many descriptions ..
A few hundred poems were written for her.
If she reads every poem and praises me ...
It seemed more encouraging to me.
Constantly his thoughts as my poetic object ....
While the flow of my poetry continues to do so ....
Why not let him see ...
Want to meet him one day anyway ...
Even if I decides to go to the hostel.
Do not leave late as expected .....
But could not imagine the evolution ahead ..
Call our uncle and say "Ray uncle, can you set me a bike"
I asked ..
To which he said " ok it is the work in our hands" ...
Even if something made a difference to me, I saw the courage in his words ..
If I go to our uncle Gadi's house and see ...
My burra is broken.
With a small helpless smile as I left ....
"Bomber bike is not set, come on," he said.
For once the earth seemed to sink under my feet.
But to meet him anyway ..
I said the same to Wadi.
We are walking .. Today I will meet my Nicky ...
I mean you have to walk with me ...
My nephew groove
I still remember the change of color on the face ...

© Dinesh muddada