By Abhishek P.
It's been such a long while,
Since these meandering paths I could roam.
The winds of time took me away,
From the place I once called home.
My moist eyes travel to that old grey shack
Its latch gleams in sunlight.
Golden memories of the days gone by dance around
Clad in black and white.
The moo of cows echoes down the lane
It's just how it used to be.
The same clucking hens, the same turning mill,
All that's changed is me.
The pots laid out by the well
The scarecrow in the field
Now I know how much I missed them
With woe my senses reeled.
To earn what they called money
I left for an unknown land
Why I gave up this prized possession
I do not understand.
Now, years later,
I feel my emptiness filled.
In the midst of bowing trees.
On the soil we tilled.
So passing the hopscoth paths in the sand,
I enter my mud hut's dome.
And mother smiles, tears trickling over her face,
in the place I once and always will call home.