I was digging thorough the archives in my old PC when i came upon this poem i wrote a very long time back. My first attempt to become a rhymester i believe

I was making my way, through the madding crowd,

All for making hay, at dawn, dusk and dark.

Ah! How I yearned for a place to perch,

How I yearned for a place to embrace me with a motherly touch,

Like peas in a pod, there I wanted to stay,

Oh! Did I not say, that I was going home?

Over the hills and over the fields, I flew,

Carrying with me only a slew of thoughts.

Did I deserve a perfect farewell, I never knew,

But when the hills kissed me goodbye,

And the green pastures waved me off,

Finally I felt like I was leaving a place,

That was never mine, in the first place.

Time is a tragic dimension, It is.

It gave my home a new face,

For the better, I cannot tell,

For change is not what I seek in things I love,

But on seeing me, I saw it swell,

With joy and pride, for it had tales to tell.

My roots traced,

My footsteps retraced,

I sat on the threshold, it felt like forever,

And my home whispered in my ear, "Take Care".