I'm writing this because I am actually going home permanently after working in another city for 3 years. This is not a poem, I am aware. It's more like I'm penning down my random thoughts hoping that I am making some sense. :)
The smell of incense sticks,
Those faces that once were forgotten,
Somewhere in the back of my mind,
My old school that now has changed,
In more ways but one,
New kids in new uniforms,
It feels like it was just yesterday,
We were running around the campus during lunch,
Our college which was,
Once our territory,
Now seems like it belongs to others,
Everything would probably look the same,
Yet would be so different.
I wonder if everything at home would,
Fall back into the same routine,
I would wake up to the sound,
Of my mother yelling at me to wake up,
And my father watching the news,
Will it all be the same?
Or would everything quiet down?
I wonder who would still be left in our city,
And who would have gone away,
Like I had,
Never once did I think about getting back in touch,
Never did I feel as though I have the time.
Would I find people now to give me company?
Would the new acquaintances turn into friends?
Would I find the new start I need?
Or would I blend into the background, forgotten?
I thought that I would be happy at the prospect of going home,
Never did I think goodbye would be bittersweet,
Never did I think that spontaneity would frighten me,
For that was one thing I have always embraced,
I was always ready for whatever life threw at me,
Now,
I'm not so sure.
Poetry by Kshiti Dubey
Read 772 times
Written on 2016-08-17 at 17:43
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Going Home
Those familiar streets,The smell of incense sticks,
Those faces that once were forgotten,
Somewhere in the back of my mind,
My old school that now has changed,
In more ways but one,
New kids in new uniforms,
It feels like it was just yesterday,
We were running around the campus during lunch,
Our college which was,
Once our territory,
Now seems like it belongs to others,
Everything would probably look the same,
Yet would be so different.
I wonder if everything at home would,
Fall back into the same routine,
I would wake up to the sound,
Of my mother yelling at me to wake up,
And my father watching the news,
Will it all be the same?
Or would everything quiet down?
I wonder who would still be left in our city,
And who would have gone away,
Like I had,
Never once did I think about getting back in touch,
Never did I feel as though I have the time.
Would I find people now to give me company?
Would the new acquaintances turn into friends?
Would I find the new start I need?
Or would I blend into the background, forgotten?
I thought that I would be happy at the prospect of going home,
Never did I think goodbye would be bittersweet,
Never did I think that spontaneity would frighten me,
For that was one thing I have always embraced,
I was always ready for whatever life threw at me,
Now,
I'm not so sure.
Poetry by Kshiti Dubey
Read 772 times
Written on 2016-08-17 at 17:43
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
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