Poem for @earnestycommunity'spoetry book competition
I went to a foreign country
To make a little more money
But I started feeling nostalgic,
When I came home, the feeling was epic.
The winds and rain whisper my name
A joy gotten from no fame.
My feet in soft mud, splashed with rough gravel.
The tarred roads which I have travelled,
Are nothing compared to what I feel now,
It's like that; no whys or hows.
The aroma of delicacies churned with love
Mixed and turned by the beautiful veined hands of a mother,
No international restaurant, no majestic cuisines,
Can match the taste of love with which I have dined.
The thread that ties me to the jasmines and roses,
And the grass green, soft tingly moss,
The one that binds me to the kisses of the rain,
And the ever falling wet marbles on the floor,
Are far too strong to be broken with scissors of money and fame,
Cause they've been my mirror.