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Echoes in a Silent Lane
I rode the steed of memories to where my childhood lay,
Dreaming through the dusty lanes as laughter echoed far away
Of fairs that buzzed with colour, and joy that never dies
Of carefree games with friends beneath the sunlit skies.
But when I reached that faded lane, the world had turned to stone,
No laughter rang, no faces showed—just silence, cold and alone.
The fair had packed its magic up, and friends moved on,
And I stood there—a stranger now—where once my soul had shone.
Copyright ©
Murthy Chennapragada
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