Tall Tanned Boy

The tall tanned boy,
Stood by the cornice of the building.
Glancing at the road beneath,
The path stood staunch as a milestone
That labeled yet another customary, novel chapter
Of his burdened chronicle. 

The tall tanned boy,
Fancied if the rumors were true,
Of the day he was born;
Of the handsome frolics
And the parade of folks,
Amused at the new arrival.

The tall tanned boy,
Turned down the truth
Of these bewitching stories;
As he recalled,
The chain of life episodes that pulled him,
To the cornice of the building.

The tall tanned boy,
Continued to walk through the memory tunnel, 
Of tender years;
That brought appreciation for excellence. 
Along with the dreary hope;
Fatiguing him of their burden.

The tall tanned boy,
Ran through the grounds of youth,
Of the days that demanded no heed.
The hours he spent breathing for 'them',
The hours he spent desk-bound,
And those he couldn't- being imprudent.

The tall tanned boy,
Longed for his pulse like aspirations,
That kept him alive.
Survival- he had to seek,
And let go off the beats- to step into oxfords,
To fill in the roots.

The tall tanned boy,
Was a captive in the new cubicle,
Bordered by the crowd of expectations. 
His aimless feet pulled him out,
To the edge of the building;
When he vaguely bicycled his fate- the wheels, flickering on hasty grounds.

The tall tanned boy,
Stood by himself, to quote the last words of his chronicle;
Proud to have taken lead of his own battles- calling himself a fighter
But, weren't all fighters for their own battles?
The comforting wind filled him with gratitude,
And a fresh hope to live. 

-Vedanshi Shah