• daffodilpearlzz 6w

    Thank you for the like and repost WN ��
    EC ��

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    It is no more the metropolis
    when the train passes the village station.
    Green fields and big trees surround us,
    on both sides, alike; 'tis the country side now!
    Leaves of the village trees murmur with winds,
    the ones of the city, silenced by noise and traffic.
    Aroma of fresh green nature, the wind carries it,
    Garbage's foul smell, winds shed 'em away
    before they travel from city to countryside.

    To never lose the vibe I get each time
    I come here, try to hold the wind in my palms.
    Birds fly past the fields, in grandeur and beauté.
    The komorebi between the village trees
    forms a complete spectrum above the greenery.
    To name a few, a few houses here 'n' there.
    Yet, with pleasing, glorifying, mesmerizing welkin.

    Many a time, have I lost my poetry in its nature,
    Not alike when 'twas lost in packed tins of disdain
    Many a time, have my wings found freedom
    In the aethers of the farms of the countryside.
    Many a time, have my eyes got scattered here,
    In its beauty; monochromatic yet artistic.
    Many a time, have my feet found its pathway here,
    In the muds of its land, blessed by a farmer's feet.
    Many a time, have the trees spoken to me,
    Happiness and life; that it exists only here.
    Perhaps yes, it does. For some, or all.

    ©daffodilpearlzz ~ Bhavya
    Sat 16 Oct 2021