She, me and memories of country

"How is it that as we sit
Beside the river, beneath those trees,
We think of life flowing without cease?"
I asked her one day, not seeking answer any
For we have traveled roads many
And thought of unwinding just
Thinking of present, future and the past,

She looked at me, her eyes resembling a sea,
Blue and deep and filled with waves
Perhaps that me, with much care, saved,

"I am a village girl, you know,
I have nothing to show,
No big dreams, no big notion,
Haven't ever thought of life as motion,
Instead it came like a soothing feel,
Almost stagnant, a story have I not to fill
Your heart which longs for adventure and thrills,
There had been no such thing in our ville,
Only there were beautiful images everyday,
They might appear to you, nothing extraordinary , per se,
But to me there were my living life's part,
Never can I live from them apart,
Like the dusty road which went singing by
To reach the river where our childhood lies,
Like those little cottages covered by vines
There where I have lived all through, so entwined,
Like those gardens with bamboo fences around
Where flowers blooming could always be found,
And so many little insignificant things
Which the village of ours always for us brings,
They may not be glitzy and glamorous
But they kept us happy always, amorous..."

Saying these she paused, taking time,
I looked how her eyes were pinned to the skyline,
"She must have been homesick"
I thought about her ,
Seeing her eyes looking at the horizon far,

The breeze which ran through her hair
Came to me as well like fragrant dream,
We were both down the memory lane perhaps traveling,

I was thinking of my childhood too,
Similar to what she painted for me to view,
I thought I had been to that village too,
There I must have got that beauteous hue
Of images as wonderous as postcards true,

And the river flowed by before us ,
leaving us amazed.

(*Note: the painting attached is used to decorate the poem/scribbling. Courtesy: Musica Pittura e Dintorni, Artist: Alexander Zhilaev)


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