Our childhood summer holidays
unquestionably ended in the folds
Of the warm golden sand,
Laced by the dark meandering river.
Our hearts tugged out of it's ties
To see the glorious sun
Melt into the stretches of sand
Spreading to an unseen horizon.
Plunging down into the sandy ripples
Our hands busy , moulding,digging, reshaping,
creating a world around us,
Only to be crumbled in no time.
Finally to blissfully glide
into the warm currents,
surrendering to the nudging drifts,
of the playful river.
Finally to blissfully glide
into the warm currents,
surrendering to the nudging drifts,
of the playful river.
The river still flows by my village, like a widow.
In vain do I search,for a strip of sand.
The sandy banks nowhere to be found,
Probably martyred in the name of development.
Nevertheless, with a semblance of tranquility,
The river moves on,
drenched in the mire of agony.
Oh! Had we the eyes to see her desolation!
In vain do I search,for a strip of sand.
The sandy banks nowhere to be found,
Probably martyred in the name of development.
Nevertheless, with a semblance of tranquility,
The river moves on,
drenched in the mire of agony.
Oh! Had we the eyes to see her desolation!
