Lady bird and the labyrinth of me mories
When the sanctum of memories have been defiled and plundered , ravaged by the cruel nature of the despot --time. Things that made us who we are today every bit of them is a treasure , never forget who we were for all that we are today .yes I never forget the brilliant little eyes that sees dream in every little things. Here he is busy with the toys from his imagination putting breath and life to each twig and swarming town out of the moist rich earth in the backyard of his little country home in the mountains .. until the evening comes and the sky is grey and the sweetest of voice is heard calling out his fond pet name --- Isuva, only then it is time to call a rest from tiring venture of the day. Then there is this treasure grove, a garden ..... groves of choicest juiciest gauva and rows and rows maizes and a water hole , tall oaks overlooking this maze of a garden , and this is where I often get lost as a
child and now I looked for my choicest of of gauva that green plumby sland , a bite is all it takes to make you dream , the forbidden bite. Now this things come from the remnants of torn memories as I delve my way into them and gather and handpicked them and put them back piece by piece as best as I could. And there this little creature to take me through the labyrinth of my hazy memory , a creature by the name of lady bird. It so happened in the little village ours , parents go to get supplies from the nearby town it is like an occasion filled excitement for the little ones waiting for the return of their parents .It is often in the night or in the late evening or in the late evening that they journey through the s muddy road amidst the thick jungle either by foot or worn out jeeps and the thought of town runs wild in the mind of these little children and litted town can only be imagined . You know when the moon is litted high and the road closes the village an old bridge across a crystal clear serpentine river meet the travellers returning home. Such were the anticipation of the children whom poverty have denied the privilege to see the light of world. But these children do see dreams and light in a different manner , why I say this ....... they see hope in the small things and tiniest of gift brings brings them joy. Here is where comes my lady bird , when my dad is away on one such daring expedition in the garden or somewhere among the village green she comes to tell us that the traveller is coming home 馃彔.
child and now I looked for my choicest of of gauva that green plumby sland , a bite is all it takes to make you dream , the forbidden bite. Now this things come from the remnants of torn memories as I delve my way into them and gather and handpicked them and put them back piece by piece as best as I could. And there this little creature to take me through the labyrinth of my hazy memory , a creature by the name of lady bird. It so happened in the little village ours , parents go to get supplies from the nearby town it is like an occasion filled excitement for the little ones waiting for the return of their parents .It is often in the night or in the late evening or in the late evening that they journey through the s muddy road amidst the thick jungle either by foot or worn out jeeps and the thought of town runs wild in the mind of these little children and litted town can only be imagined . You know when the moon is litted high and the road closes the village an old bridge across a crystal clear serpentine river meet the travellers returning home. Such were the anticipation of the children whom poverty have denied the privilege to see the light of world. But these children do see dreams and light in a different manner , why I say this ....... they see hope in the small things and tiniest of gift brings brings them joy. Here is where comes my lady bird , when my dad is away on one such daring expedition in the garden or somewhere among the village green she comes to tell us that the traveller is coming home 馃彔.
36-40, M
