Gone are those Days !

In a remote village, where echoes of nature play,
A boy weaves dreams at the break of day.
Under the vast sky, his world unfolds,
Stories untold, in hills and fields, he molds.

Barefoot adventures through meadows wide,
Chasing butterflies, with arms spread wide.
Whispers of wind, through ancient trees,
A symphony of life, carried on the breeze.

Morning sun paints the landscape gold,
As...