The festive-time vocal paintings—
Inadvertent arts of natives visiting—
Drove you with an enchanted wand
And journey you did to the wonderland.
Dreams can frighten, dreams can scare,
But wouldn’t you rather die than not dare?
Wishes can be as lofty as many sights you’ve seen,
But wouldn’t you rather try and commit just that sin? 
.Country girl, employ your peripheral vision,
If you must lose none of the attraction,
For you may lose your bag to the lost boys
(And it’d be no use raising your village voice).
What your ears have heard
Your eyes now see unclad—
See, the world is really big
(You’ve been living in the smaller wing).
Bikes are for diligent men— at home—
Here, modern horses every corner roam;
No weekends— they all seem lucre freaks;
No trees here— it’s all raised glassed bricks.The city kiddies with their posh diction
Bewrayed your shoddy basic education,
And you blushed; your pride kneeled—
The deepening cleft must now be filled.
Your cracked feet must comb busy streets,
For legal means— for daily meat—
Your thickened palms— embrace honest chores—
For some city mints in your brassiere-purse.
Albeit not many have seen it’s true form,
Love lives here too; it may someday come:
Lose the rustic gaits, claddings and naivety
You may keep the manners and rare chastity
Diligence and luck will soon shake hands:
Dreams will materialize in your own hands,
The world will welcome it’s latest parvenu;
History will have been re-written by this daring you!
Oh, dreams can frighten, oh they can scare,
But wouldn’t you rather die than not dare?
Oh wishes can be as lofty as some sights you’ve seen,
But wouldn’t you rather try and commit just that sin?