A rumination
A nonagenarian, me,
Sitting in my village hut now,
recalls the small home;
not merely four walls,
but heavenly full of love
and every moment, of mutual
share and smile .
occasional bickering
ended in mutual compromise.
upbringing was such
my grandmother starting
her day with epic and puranic tales.
Ingrained the necessity of give
and take;
Generations of children reared,
treaded the path of dharmic codes.
Whom does the age spare;
With the passage of time,
dwindled the strength
and home became a space empty;
I am the loner, sitting
and counting my days;
home is missing, lost
only in next birth,
hope to see again the past home,
quite optimistic and optimism
only my tonic now.
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