Dear cotton fields...

Road drive by the field side.

Field dotted with cotton balls.

Still they are, standing tall.

A slightest blow can make it fall.

A soft touch on the face,

makes the heart full of grace.

Wish to run in these fields,

But do not intend to make them fall,

The flowers and leaves.

To watch it from is awfully teasing,

Those dotted structure are pearls;

They’re pleasing.

They touch the horizon.

Harmonizing with the sky.

From roadside, watch it from far.

The cotton fields are stretching

miles afar.

Au revoir dear pearly cotton balls.

Let’s meet again once, while

once we live, once we die.

~Arushi Sahu