I Miss My Childhood Landscape

From the yonder hazy horizon, the blue hills undulated gently down the emerald gradient of the rhythmic rolling waves of the luring landscape, that carved the contours of the charming hamlet, where my endearing home was once cradled in its cauldron, nurturing me in the beguiling bounty of the mesmeric nature. The fairy flotilla of the cotton cloud, making pristine celestial panorama, slid silently with scenic flair upon the curved canvas of the cerulean sky, where my childhood joy soared to great heights of ebullience with the colorful kites, I loved so much to fly. A gleaming stream of susurration, gliding with melodic grandeur with glistening liquid pearls of elegance, flowed with the flamboyant facade of silvery splendor of grace, flowing through the verdant vale, that bedecked our sprawling house with an ornate garland, made of embracing loop of mesmerizing meander. At scarlet sunrise hours, on its rippling aureate water, passing me by with alluring rhythm, l sailed the paper boats, laced with rainbow ribbons, that floated with fascinating finesse, wobbling in the current’s tortuous trail. On these to a distant unknown dreamland, I imagined my mariner mind sail unbound, suffused with the teenage trance. The boats disappeared to nowhere with the receding ebb of the lost time, within the cloudy cleft of memory. In those adorable tender moments, gone by like the autumn breeze, I now live lonesome in winter twilight with my inner child. The infantile images deeply engraved in the fossilized young mind, trampled by the footsteps that have walked me so far, on the transcendent topography of life, lie buried defaced under the dust of time. Now, at the edge of the falling night, I reminisce as I walk the last mile, follow the outline of the faint footprint trail, taking me to the end of time, where I miss my childhood landscape.