In this hilly village,
I lived as a child,
With the passage of time,
Village has become wild.
I visit here again,
After a long phase,
Upon the heap of years,
Is piled, the bundle of age.
It is the same rock,
My place of fun and game,
On it, with childish urge,
I had engraved my name.
The border of flat stone,
Had shaped the frame,
In zigzag letters,
Was written my name.
With long passage of time,
Nature has faded the name,.
Now, I see tarnished surface,
Where words have become lame...
©alafat
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