The Playground
Why are they covering this piece of land,
With stones, bricks and wooden frame.
They say it will become a parking for cars,
The field which belonged to us.
We played football, police and thief,
Kick the can and hide and seek.
It was a friend who is now gone,
Now we are standing all alone.
Today no more is that playground,
The only which was in the town.
By Prantar Buragohain