When the Sun is up in the morning,
That paths.... The colour of that paths;
Either Tarred, concreted; or Reddish ?,
It was a journey to our farm house,
A dream which was completely designed early before years !
Having a beneficial effect of temperate climate there !
Dreams of a Village,
It is the summer urges us to move to the farmhouse !
Which has something to say:,
Ways of shadowing humidity and grief
All because of sadness of the year went on ;
Through the improvement which made the concrete path reddish !,
The children competing to feed the birds and animals in the farm house,
Small cages which are built outside after cutting the trees halfway;
The burrows of rabbit polished with mud on the floor;
A pond, smooth ,round pebbles ,a bridge in between,
The people who reached the farm house for working...
When their works get hot
Equipments ,cold water to remove thirst were handed over to them,
The light should be dig up in the darkness and given ,
Before the darkness of sadness spreads,
They need to hold the helm of the night shift
The grains which they harvested are filled in sacs at that light,
The rooms of farm house were now enriched with grains,
It is to be protected for years from rats and moths;
Some of it stored in the attic,
Their fairwells and greetings are for the next one year,
A Courtyard where dark withered leaves fly in the wind,

Bougainvilleas on their gate was impressive,
And like an arch,
It made their gate attractive,
Helps to melt in joy,
Like a song of welcome...and a sweet touch
When reached there in her house
There was no smile on our faces; just worries !
The time when she was not there,
On our way to reach the farm house,
Which was decorated with meadows, flowers, doves and rabbit...
After half an hour she came,
She was on wheel chair ; rolling with hands;
The callus in her hand made it easy ...while rolling the wheel,
The Unquenchable...