Kampar
Kampar back lanes
The doors stay close all day
The quiet lanes occasionally some roars
Of motorcycles and cars passsing through
The rustic atmosphere as if time stands alone
Leaving out the glory of the past of the town
The backlanes fallen dried leaves and twigs
The forgotten lanes even the walls neglected
At night it is all deserted at the back lanes
People hardly use it when night falls for it
It will be quiet only the soft breezes weep
Of the glory once when the town was rich
The tin mining heydays gone now
The back lanes have seen shares of it
Now neglected with unwanted debris
At night maybe dogs and cats scavaging
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