a poem by Siddharth Panicker

Here is it!
The one that I dreamt of;
The one that I imagined of;
The one that lacked the din of the developed,
It also lacked the city-blues
A sight of it makes one take the inevitable breath,
The one taken at the sight of every beautiful mortal,
Each giggle here goes noticed,
Contrary to the city where the needy shout goes un-noticed
This is where the city falls inferior,
Friends I fear the village is dear
THE rustic VOICE