Memories Of My Land
When champa flowers bloomed, in it’s fragrance I walked
The muddy path leading to the green paddy fields.
Dragon flies flying around, just wanting me to catch them on their tail,
One legged crane, focused on the fish which is oblivious of the peril
Bright maroon Onam flowers and milky white ‘thumba’
I stood their adoring the beauty of my land
The stream, the mountains, and the fields touching the horizon…
The washer woman washes dirty linen
With a rhythm that’s well known
Splashing lather and water
Dipping them in knee deep water
She sways to her own...