My Old Village House

My old village house weathered worn,

It’s room echoes my aunt’s voice long gone,

Memories of my aunt took me to bygone,

She chopped the mangoes,mixed spices and cooked it in sun,

The rare delicacy as i greedily looked inside pitcher earthen,

As i tasted it was good and well seasoned,

A curious mixture of sour,sweet,pungent would thrill my tongue!

Ah! these sweet memories lingers all along,

The thatched roof of old house is tattered and worn,

The walls were filled with echoes of our laughter and songs,

With my sister and cousin i wandered in village all along,

The black berries upon the trees would tempt us strong,

Eating it we relished every second,

The whole village hummed with peaceful sound,

The old neem tree in courtyard was the most blessed being,

With swing hooked in neem tree we would gladly took turns,

My brother took a bath in tubewell playing with his friends,

He played with them till his spirits were run down,

Now uncles and aunt grown so feeble and old,

Verily I longed to see them and behold!

Though time has passed and surely distance grown,

In my heart their love will always be held strong,

Now the wooden doors with its hinges rusted and worn,

Tell the tales of yesteryear of life passed nonchalant,

A humble abode that still stands with love and attention,

Still welcomed its guests being worn and torn,

Allah made its descendents so humble and pleasant,

Although the house is now crumbling down,

It holds a  special place in my heart own.