Home sweet home,
where are you?
Hiding miles far
out of my view.
Or shivering amidst
cloudy mountain tops.
Or floating on leaves
where frog pops.
Wherever I venture
I'll always return to
the comforting hand
of yours.
To seek warmth
and calmness by
lying flat on the ground.
And had spent countless
hours sobbing and
smiling around.
I admire the terrace
I adore the attic,
the kitchen, the stairs,
windows and door pairs.
Add more to its ethics.
Nurturing generations
observing them grow old,
Every arrogant adult
once tottered here,
crawled upon his belly
and dozed beneath its care.
Walls for centuries echo with
screams of infants,
scoldings of mothers and
grandma's religious chants.
It copes with every season
to bear with the withering,
day or night remains silent
not to wake the baby sleeping.
Similar to grandpa rolling back
on his chair and reciting a poem.
Nothing compares to my
home, sweet home.
YOU ARE READING
The Long Road To Home
PoetryA collection of 50 poems composed by me, aka Ashish Khare. These are the ones I wrote during lockdown. Here, I talk about feelings like loneliness, incomplete love and even patriotism. Give these a read!
