This website is in read only mode. To be the part of New YoAlfaaz community, click the button.
+8 votes
shared in Poem by
Walking on those mud paths

Where our childhood used to run

I plunge into rivers of memories

Memories of that wooden shop and its butter bun

And those silent roads on which

We, hand in hand, knitted dreams

Where we did thousands of mischiefs

Sometimes fought for kites; sometimes for ice-creams

That old wall is still here;

On which we drew our dream home

Painted it with our stories of imaginations

 & its corridors in which we used to roam

That small river stream is still afresh

Blue as sky, pure, calm and smooth

We often used to see our reflection in its water

That river witnessed our childhood meeting with youth

In these many years, the life albeit walked a lot

Yet our childhood is preserved in this very town

Where I first asked you if you would be with me always

Be it time of glories; be it time dull and brown

And your smile and a small tear in eyes

Said it all with no word to be told,

This old town and its old paths saw it all

The winds here still sings our stories; loud and bold
commented by
Beautiful poem...especially the first lines.. :)
commented by
Thanks  a Lot Rucha :)
commented by
superb lines... nicely done...
commented by
Hey Gurjyot :) thanks a lot :)
commented by
Fabulous!! Loved it totally!
commented by
Thanks a lot Tanisha :) :)
commented by
beautifully penned....loved the way of using the words!
commented by
:) :) thanks a ton for the compliment :) Priya

Related posts

+7 votes
0 replies 55 views
+5 votes
0 replies 34 views
shared Sep 1, 2016 in Poem by Arun
+7 votes
0 replies 151 views
+4 votes
0 replies 19 views
+5 votes
0 replies 76 views
+6 votes
0 replies 29 views
+5 votes
0 replies 36 views
+3 votes
0 replies 19 views
shared May 22, 2016 in Poem by Mari Felices
+5 votes
0 replies 68 views
Connect with us: