There was this blue train that used to run through yellow fields of mustard. I also remember green Paddy fields dotted with greasy diesel pumps, scarecrows and peacocks. But that was a long time ago. Maybe my memory plays truant with me. Maybe the fields were not all that green and the train all that blue.
But pray don't tell me that those were not fields of mustard and that was not I riding that train and you traveling with me.
Memories are precious. I hope good memories stay vivid in your heart.
ReplyDeleteMemories have stories, and stories form our lives :-)
ReplyDeleteAww, that's beautifully put :-)
ReplyDelete