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4th August, 1997

My family, my friends, and the mango grove –
There we laughed, cried, and seemed to grow.

In the backdrop was a clear water river,
That over the years, seemed quietly flow.
The village was a beautiful scenery,
Looking overhead were mountains high and low.

The fields were with lush greenery abound,
That farmers used to reap, harvest, and sow.
The summer nights offered a pleasant breeze,
The winters, a blanket of snow.

The fauna offered a variety to relish,
Where crickets sang, and cows mowed –
Nights were the time of crying hyenas,
In the mornings, the crows crowed.


(there’s scope of advancing this further…)