Loving Past
In a remote village I
recently visited,
houses with tin roofs
over wooden trusses,
ekra bamboo walls,
mud plastered
and humble.
At the roadside,
a community water
tab stands,
a lifeline for all.
Nature here,
untouched by the
relentless march
of humans,
whispers of a
simpler time.
I paused for a moment,
feeling myself drift back
to the era of tin-
roofed houses,
to the conventional
agrarian landscape
of my childhood
long ago.
16th Nov.2018
( The poem written after visiting the S.C village of Pheiyeng )
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