The streets of
my village
still are
the streets of
my village
and yet
A new wind is
blowing, a wind carrying
scents from far and near
The bakery baking
flat bread now as daily
as to almost take over
the image
of bread
The butchers halal
or any other trade
from four continents
at walking
distance
All people buying
and selling time and
groceries
In a common space
thtat we call
The Village
we live in.
In my village
in my part of town
there's everywhere
the sound of children
the language of
here and now, dealing
with one another as
a matter of fact.
We get up and
go out of
our houses, meet
each other out
there and we
come home
where we live
in the village.
nice poem, , , , , , , , , , , , villages are such pristine places tp live in
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes, at present time everything is almost Halal now, our gratitude to the Lord Almighty. Excellent poem, full insight. So very pity that you are writing no more here on Poemhunter. But thanks for sharing this poem.