When I open the window of the southern side <br />I feel I did not take any foot step from my childhood <br />The exterior wind blows gentle with motherly touch <br /> <br />Wherever I look there the woods arise <br />In the dimness of memories departed long <br /> <br />Time is nothing but a battle and defeats me repeatedly <br />My frustration makes me return to my window <br />And that very time I solemnly try to make a voyage <br />In the ripples of rip-roaring tide and times<br /><br />Tapas Baidya<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-window-3/
