The garden my grandfather managed;
The trees of persimmon, guava and orange-
Where I used to play hide and seek,
In the lemon grass and little creek.
The sun shine with the cripple sounds
Of sparrow I am spellbound.
I could see the flocks of sparrows
Making canopy I am under them,
My father moving long flag,
Enjoying and flying his pigeons;
Some white, green and purpple,
Some blue, red and some crowned.
The air they spread on me
As I was the litle cute baby,
Dreamed to fly jump like calf
The cow stop grazing looking at me.
Buzzing bees and Nightingale song
My grandfather's rainbow garden
The heavenly colors I belonged.
The garden sounds divine; full of natures activity. It must be a haven for the mind, body and soul.
This is my own,too. But there is something mistake which breaks my pages into 2.
Hmmm..
gopal