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Bashir Ali Najar Apr 2020
The sound on the streets of lalchowk
Remind me of my past
When my father took my little hand into his
Now it's lost
Where's the time
Being child everything my mine ...
The travelling along the Road of panthachowk
The sky touching poplar trees
The paddy fields full of grass hoppers
The mesmerizing butterflies on the flowers of almond tress ....
The waters of jehlum's anticipating sound
Being child everything was mine
The rowing of boats along the Dal
Going picnic to Manasbal..
The biting of the pencil reminds me of that excitement
That curiousity of looking at insects
Where is the past
Do u think it's lost ...
Those  days I was making a clays house
Now these days on internet I browse ....
What I got
What I forgot
The days I used to eat cotton candy
And lick one rupee orange icecream
Now where's the time
Being child everything was mine
The olden days !!
Where are those golden days
Let me be a child again
Let me wonder along the streets and karewas to regain....
Wuyan
Srinagar
Lalchowk

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