At the grove*

At that grove *

We had spent so many days
Our March, April, May,
At that grove , right in our village,
There we had spent our days,
In songs, dances and endless plays,
There we had spread our lays,
Oft in summer afternoons
When the village with sleepy eyes swooned,
We would at the Grove gather,
There we played together,
Stories of princes princesses and horsemen,
We there heard so often
From our village headman, the old  granddad,
What a time wonderous we had,

Nearby the Grove there had been
A flowing cool stream,
Often after playing the whole day
We would there go and take a plunge
Into the water of the stream , we would lunge
And swim till we thought we went breathless
There, near the Grove, we had our merry days,
Our June, July, August, September,
There at the Grove, we had our days to remember,
Dancing , singing, playing games,
At the Grove we had never the life same.


(*Note: the painting attached is used to decorate the theme of the poem/scribbling.
Courtesy: Musica Pittura e Dintorni, Alex Artista)

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