Wayanad’s Rising Spirit

In Wayanad, where green hills rise high,

The land was peaceful, under a clear sky.

But then the clouds grew dark and wide,

And rains poured down, pushing rivers aside.

The streams that used to gently flow,

Turned into torrents, strong and bold.

They rushed through valleys, sweeping away, Everything in their path that day.

Homes were flooded, hearts were torn,

As the water came, leaving all forlorn.

But in the struggle, people came together,

To rebuild their lives, no matter the weather.

Now the skies are clear, and hope returns,

The land will heal, as the heart learns.

Wayanad’s spirit, strong and true,

Will rise again, fresh and new.