There is a day
So quite out in an under lay
That is created in clay
Just like d soul of an early way
I wake,
Waking up in the Joy of immaculate..
In radiance is the measure that I take,
Laying down in the freshness that emerge from the sunny plate.
Nothing could be better
But a host of an early morning’s larks flow….
Take a look!
Everything seems out that I can’t meditate
But down in my soul
I’m elevate
Just like the palm trees’ leaf rejuvenate,
To the smooth smile of the sun
That could make an hunter, in distress, blow the gun.
Then I reminisce into d memory of d early days,
When d eloquent voice of a mother eulogise manhood
A sweet old days,
Where nakedness is only clothe we play in….
The days that d little ones dance to late night happiness of d moon,
Where d silence of fairy tales elude….
The days are old now
Many memories are far beyond d cloud
Sounds of sweet melody, in village square, are tie down
White men witches are now found around….
But there is a day
So quite out in an under lay
That is created in clay
Just like d soul of an early way
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