Adolescence

I remember the carefree days, when
barefoot, we ran through the tall grass,
chased by the burly Sikh guard,
for stealing mangoes from his tree.
I remember the Saturday mornings,
wading in the shallow streams
catching tadpoles and guppies
for the little glass bottles we had
and the thrashing I got,
getting home wet and dirty.
I remember the endless games with marbles and tops,
in which with uncanny accuracy
our friend Nara reigned supreme.
I remember the meaningless brawls,
and the soccer games from four to seven,
when darkness took our tired bodies home.
And I still remember being fourteen,
when a smile from a girl
would make me blush, stutter and stammer
and rue about it for days on end.
Yes, those were the days.
Why did they have to end?