Friday, 6 November 2015


I walked too often to find roots
Of quiet place – away from home
And many times, I am plunged
Between two roads, striding away
In a long and strenuous journey.
Instead, I have to wash away dream
From my mind, dry pathway makes
Me frustrated, restraining me from
This wild journey, and excesses
Have been done upon my mind,
Sweet home is the prince,
Filling peace in everyone’s mind,
Rescuers are not at red soil or metallic road.

From daybreak to evening,
I learnt to stay at home, even if
I am dried out with thirst
Or melt in agony, none has loving tongue.

No comments:

Post a Comment