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 the village boy, youthful and bold,
Tends to cattle, in the meadow green,
A simple life, tranquil and serene.

Rustic paths lined with wildflowers sweet,
Cricket symphonies, a rhythm discreet.
In the heart of simplicity, joy finds its way,
A village boy's laughter, a sunlit display.

Evenings aglow with the warmth of kin,
Around the fire, tales of where they've been.
Under a canvas of stars, dreams take flight,
The village boy's world, a tranquil delight.

Far from the buzz of the bustling town,
He finds treasure in a smile, not a crown.
With calloused hands and dreams untold,
The remote village boy, a story to unfold.
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