Lost Path Poem by Namita Rani Panda

Can you show me the path to the path of
my golden days
where I used to run and play
in my pleasant childhood days;
the path that rises with the farmer in the
morn,
who goes to his field to sow his corn
tearing the silence with his melodious song;
the path that sighs of dust with the passing
of cattle
or the bullock cart or my bicycle?

I still remember its smell with the first touch
of rain
and the vendors I used to wait for bargain,
muddy in rain and dusty in summer
my village path is pristine and my heart's
desire,
where the village girls come with pots of
water
and with their harvest return the farmers,
where there were performing monkeys and
the snake charmer
and the trees on both sides with cool bowers.
Today I see only broad concrete roads.
No path lined with trees is found.
Buried under the concrete my sweet
childhood
and with that my sweet days are dead.