Did you find a word? "Yes, it's a Village"
Infact My Village, My Childhood;
The old men sit by the doorway their evening rest is sweet.
And careful mothers are busy, they hurry out and in;
Or pause by the door for a moment to smile at their children's din.
And farther away in the distance, from the playground comes a shout,
as quick-eyed youths at their pastimes run, strong of limb, about.
The village wakes up thirsty and hungry as tribal songs blast from a radio house,
Rising sun and blue skies peek humbly as a drifting breeze descends to dowse.
And of the creatures mad wild and tame mating calls echo from the nearby pond,
As white birds fly out far, playing a game the world is a playground for the young.
And the forcados river comes rolling fast I reflect on the sweet memories of the past,
Hand in hand with the wonders of the ages ducks float on the river, in twos and threes:
I die in this seconds, alive only on this pages burying self in a beautiful village's peace.
And of the creatures mad wild and tame mating calls echo from the nearby pond,
As white birds fly out far, playing a game the world is a playground for the young.
And the forcados river comes rolling fast I reflect on the sweet memories of the past,
Hand in hand with the wonders of the ages ducks float on the river, in twos and threes:
I die in this seconds, alive only on this pages burying self in a beautiful village's peace.
Remembering the days how I was part of it, enjoying every moment of ease.
Now I look back where I visit once in a while, where I find nothing has chanced except,
the people;
still those dark jungle seems chasing me;
still those unfamiliar faces seems familiar;
still those classrooms where I once played seems known;
still playing in mud naked, seems familiar;
still those ghost stories seems real which give goosebumbs;
still those heat in the sun seems like the demand of "Kulfi" from the bicycler;
and with still those river, lakes, birds, soil and many more remains the same;
I am just lost here imagining, "One day would come when I would move there";
Looking for a reason why people like me go in town and remember about the place here.
It goes on and on how we feel as;
The old men sit by the doorway, the children play in the street;
The dead are up in the graveyard, their rest is long and sweet.
_yaitsmebibek
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ReplyDeletethanks :)
DeleteBeautifully written 😊
ReplyDeleteThanks yaar :)
DeleteBeautiful ��
ReplyDeleteYou write lovely
ReplyDeleteThank you very much :)
DeleteIt remind me of my village life..!!
ReplyDeleteVillage life does have a lot happy memories. Hope it connected. :)
Delete