etched in memory the day we left the village leaving no footprints.
rain clouds gallop high fast we run, puffing, panting-- who will reach home first?
the wheels of the cart in quick rhythmic clatter swing the bullock horns.
when the hills recede quietly, unseen, dust settles on the road.
i have been away from hellopoetry for quite some time, but not from poetry. may i start sharing my poems once again? i have even forgotten the names of my old friends here. i shall start updating on all of you. love