Little brook

I went to a beautiful brook

I befriended with in my childhood

 She is flowing relentlessly with same serenity with same youthful jolly

Years back when I played around the pretty pretty gardens in the boastful vicinity of her

When I swam in pinkish ponds with bluish fishes

over sexy frizzy curls of her

And I asked the same question that I asked years before

 My dear brook:

Where are you running?

 When is the end?

What is the purpose?

 She replied the same narration she narrated back then

When I pinched the pebbles she used to flaunt

When I teased with my paper boats throwing on her

Dear friend:

 I am flowing to distant lands

I run perennially

With a mission of borrowing the secrets of incredible civilisations in my burbles

With a purpose to carry the age-old customs in my swishes

With a responsibility to inherit the centuries back traditions to the new generations through my ripples

 I flow flow flow

In spite of storms that try to disturb my composing

In spite of big bays that try to engulf me

Then I thought:

O my God

Afterall my little brook taught me a lesson.

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