Journey alone ,
just singing some song,
crossing the rivers,
and the mountain spree...
the tree passes by,
shadowing the sunny light,
beneath the mango grooves,
besides the stony hills...
I saw those farms,
cultivated by farmers,
the bullock carts,
and the local haats...
Houses with thatched roof,
brick and stone walls,
big verandas, backside wells,
piles of grass on their sides.
As the cows sitting in groups,
and running calf so cute,
I watch them all,
driving in my bike....
the joy of open space,
cautious in congested place,
driving in these haphazard ways,
quest of some unplanned bays!
be the rains,
as the winds that hampers,
or the summer weather,
that causes the havoc..
be the breaks in the path,
gaps filled with mud and water....
also the risk of nails,
resisting the travel tales!!
Still I will move,
to reach my destination,
alone may be,
a bit bored too....
But work must be done,
as life goes on..
observing, experiencing,
in my solitude.
2 comments:
I actually thought of villages when I read the entire poem, dont know what exactly you had in mind when writing this poem. But, I got reminded of villages in my childhood, when the "pucca" huts were still a luxury.
Perfect description, got me walking down the memory lane, of course alone.
thanks, actually its just my experience these days, as I have been
posted in one. :)
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