A musical note dancing in air..
with a caress of spring wind
Flute passionate song in dark night
a sparrow starting to sing...
Whenever the crazy busy material World..
forces me to take Five..to hold for a sec
I go back and visit my city ...
valley..where my dreams were born...
Although...there are no green fields anymore..
or the bull driven water wells ..to sneak a peak
of my favorite turtles....or the majestic smell
of red bricks sweating in summer heat...
Although noone remembers me or my grand father
but street still bears his name....and his grave
no more sounds of small mills or steam engines
or the desert sand making dunes of hope..
But still winds remind me of love
the shrine of passion ....
nightingales rhyming Waris shah' s Heer Ranjha
reminding music of humanely endurance...
Heavy heart I leave every time..
but I long every second to feel
the sweet smell of fresh corps
and peaceful streets of my dreams...
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