My Little Village

For long I am in a far off place Yet I could not forget the little village where I was born Comes to my mind like a floating cloud The image of the rivulet where I used to swim And the snaky path on which I used to walk Appears like a snap shot in my memory I could not even forget the tiny tree of berry Under which I used to get enough cool breeze And the swamp around our house where I catch fishes is A dam deep scratch in the pages of my soul Like that of glue it is attached on the wall of my memories I was blessed enough to have an orchard Where I ran amok and collected the ripe tamarinds In my leisure time all these rush back in my mind And I wish if I could go back And become a child