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
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.