Sunday, November 18, 2018

Home





The fragrance of warmth touched my heart.
And the doors of glee opened.
The arms of familiarity wrapped around me,
And the angel of dwelling kissed my forehead.
The bed of dreams floated towards me like a vision,
Translucent and vibrant.

The rustic green walls were all the same,
But their shine was new.
The snapshots on the walls appeared real,
As real as the memories they encapsulated.

 The bitterness of my cup of coffee,
Had vanished by the aura of benignity it carried.
My window pane wasn’t broken anymore,
The passage of time had fixed it.
The old chair let out a new creak.
And the torn curtains gave me a glimpse of my soul.

It was then that I realized,
My home wasn’t a building of four walls,
It was a building of four million memories.

Perks of being alone

Solitude. They call it. Self discovery. I call it. My parents are on a trip to Thailand. Honestly, I thought I’d just sit at hom...