Trying to reminisce and I'm filled with nostalgia.
It's been a long day that I'm visisting the point where my friend used to live.
The point that I remember in so many hues.
I feel no need to observe from a poet's mind.
I can hear the temple bells, the birds chirping behind me, the air that gushes from the leaves that feel less contaminated.

My friend no loger lives here but I can see him flying kites with his eyes fixed on his opponent's kite.
I'm not sure if he may invite me for cricket like he used to.
After a long time I've returned to my city
I could feel the serenity that I left unwillingly a year ago. And it's still in it's pristine state.
After living in a metropolis that earlier seemed to be a fantasy. Which I compare it to my home and wonder where the grace lies.
I wish I could embrace my home for that long that nothing in the world could matter me more.
With cloudy eyes I'm watching my friend's house where he used to live.
I'm expecting him to appear magically so that I can relate our lives for a long.

Seeing things unchanged that I left a year ago is the part that quenches my homesickness.

Home is where we have to gather grace.