On that muddy path
Walked, played, sang
Whispered with thyself
Imagined to be birds to fly
Saw the green field
felt the autumnal fresh air
Now, all are in the souvenir canvas
A memory of lost innocence
Shattered sighs of amnesia
Yet, open the book of the inner past
see, seek, find out the little hamlet of the life
©19th November,2024
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem