Fissured tar roads
Below the cracked feet…

Monsoon tests the grounds
To reveal-
The duplicate authentic faces.

Lives executed,
In the nature’s fury…
Proves the consequences-
Of the wicked lives that rocked.

Purity is examined
In every season,
To sieve out the good.

Someone left…
In the floods and heat waves,
Continues his travel:
On the Kaccha roads.

A Kaccha road
To a remote village,
A few street lamps-
Lit those ways;
Barefooted…
Lead to a fresh spring.

 

 

4 Comments
  1. Valsan 2 years ago

    Wonderful!

  2. Sunil 2 years ago

    Good.

  3. Anil 2 years ago

    Nice

  4. Haridasan 2 years ago

    a salute to the old village..

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