The flowers drawn on a box
The flowers inside a book
Standing in the rain for hours
Reaching out to hang your clothes on a hook
Waiting for the bus for hours
and swinging along the way
The laughter in the crowd
Not worrying whether it's night or day
The cold water from the hand-pump
and searching for the marble
Walking on the streets in summer
With worn out jeans and chappal
The old ways and the simple life
The worries of world ranged from four to five
The nostalgia it brings to my heart
It's somewhere inside a rampart
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