Roots
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It seems to be a thing of yesteryears,
A whiff of fragrance far, yet near
The days of warmth, lots of cheer
Running through woods, flutter no fear.
A sleepy distant nowhere land
Basking in the glory of morning sun
Away from hustle and bustle, the day unfolds
With a new story to be told.
Mystifying mist on morning hue
Puffed like a sparrow on grass and dew,
An old shop on the hillock, the dusty pathways
The grove of trees, the fields where we roamed
That was the place I called as my home.
As the daylight wanes, and the sun settles
The Smokey chimneys and the birds’ symphony
Gave a reminder about the night uncurling
And my world fell asleep in the starry moonlit night
A poignant lingering feeling
Interwoven in the times of thread
Ethernal, deep rooted….. Ah! Those were the days.
Ms Shweta Sahay
English Faculty – EET