It's been long she hasn't been there
A sojourn with warmth of nest,
So far yet so close
Where heart and soul wish to rest.
Some pieces of memory scattered
On the way and she picked few,
And they smelt like fresh painted wall
Glowing on the grass like morning dew.
There were those old brick walls and tiled houses
And a narrow lane like a rivulet,
Swaying on its own will
Marching towards sunset.
With pale grass on both side
And scattered pieces of bricks here and there
Some unknown faces of smile
Used to accompany every goer.
She had been there
At dusk used to wonder,
Where does the road go
And why is it so narrow?
And there was also a rill
Filled up to the brim when it rained,
Small boats of paper with mast raised high
She used to float and watched them sailed.
There were also a pond
She befriended and the trees,
She used to talk with thought filled eyes
They talked too nodding with gentle breeze.
There used to be some known faces
In the houses nearby,
The road remained alike
Yet the faces bade goodbye.
A piece of feather wandered in the sky
Tired, thought to settle in twilight,
In the thronged alley of memoirs
Dark fell around yet that remained ever bright.
