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Thursday, May 31, 2012

They have Left Home


Thinking back of my early school days
It would always remind me of my mother’s scolding
When she tried to arise me from my folding
Never forgetting the pain of those wee hours
I still loathe the memories as they strike me now
But in the moments of morning agony
There was always hidden a beautiful story.

As I would wake up from my kip
I remember waking up to the repetitive notes.
The melodic rhythm collided in one
 And became a mesmeric symphony on its own
The purling and tweedles of those little beings
While they depart from their home to find some stuffing
Would always make me happy and make me weave a story.

As I listened to the harmony intently
While I get ready to leave my dwelling
I always wondered if I am too a little birdie
While my mother makes for a bigger one
And my father for the biggest of the nest?

But now it’s been long
Since those days are gone
I am no more a little birdie of our nest
And those sparrows don’t sing to me in this adult life’s recklessness
The home still remains there
But several members of our household
Have vanished constructing that hole
A hole in the memories, for I still crave to wake up to that enticing delightful score
That will never be repeated
To remind me of the beautiful memories of my childhood home.






5 comments:

  1. It is amazing... beautiful.. may the sparrows come to home again...

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  2. I've fallen in love with this one. So simple, so beautiful. It makes me walk the old road again.I am so proud for being surrounded by people who can rever and value Nature and the beauty of life. Awesome!

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  3. there was always hidden a beautiful story...as they strike me....the hole in those memories...great use of language to set a tone for something just underneath this that is rather painful...the sparrows no longer sing to me....nice...

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