Recess by Beas

Our hands brushed,

Accidentally, of course,

By the banks of Beas,

Plastering

The walls of our castle

With soggy silver sparkles.

My clumsy patches

Smoothened

With your finesse.

Day-by-day,

Our tiny hands

Moulding our dreams,

Aiming

Higher, loftier, stronger,

Occasionally ornate, too.

And then the chase

To the classroom

Where we would

Sit alongside

And learn

The impressive

Array of facts.

We would return,

Each day,

Only to find

Our caresses, corroded

And

Our footprints, ironed

By the eventide.

But that didn't deter us.

Ever.

Sometimes,

I wonder if you remember

Those recesses by Beas,

Or is it just me.

This week's photo prompt is provided by Sonya with the blog, Only 100 Words. 

Linking with Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers