A Quiet Haven

In the cradle of the valley, where the river softly sings,

Lies a village wrapped in peace, where simple joy takes wing.

Mud-brick homes with thatched roofs stand, beneath the ancient trees,

Morning dew on verdant fields, kissed by a gentle breeze.

Children chase through dusty lanes, their laughter pure and free,

While elders share old tales beneath the sprawling banyan tree.

The market hums with barter’s song, of grain and woven thread,

Sunsets paint the sky in hues of amber, gold, and red.

Each dawn, the rooster’s call awakes the folk to toil and care,

In unity, they sow and reap, their lives a humble prayer.