Take me home.
To those stormy days.
And sleepless summer nights.
To our rainswept red-tiled verandah.
That witnessed changing seasons.
Take me home.
To the kitchen that once smelled of
my grandmother's cooking.
Warped and discoloured pots,
stored inside chipped sunmica drawers.
Take me home,
to my childhood bed.
On which I lay dreaming most nights.
Travelling to unknown cities and towns.
That bed, now long gone!
Take me home to my books, on whose covers
I would sign my name in an illegible hand.
With my favorite pen.
It was a gift from my mother!
She would sign her contracts with it.
My books sold for mere bucks, alas!
Take me home to my beloved toy bat.
That my father had bought for me.
And which legends of cricket had graciously signed.
Just so a young boy could smile.
My only happy memories with my father.
But among my other trinkets, my bat too
was thrown away with the day's trash.
All my little things gone.
Lost to me forever.
Please take me to that home.
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