Old Country House



Somedays-

I think of my old country house.

The house that sheltered my childhood-

The house I was born in.

I think of its walls-

That once helped me learn how to walk.

They are now weary, and

wounded, as

the dry scabs of paint fall.

Somedays

I think of my old country house

Deserted.

It stands in silence.

I think of its doors-

That once opened the way

for a new world to me.

Shut tight.

They are now tired of waiting.

Somedays-

I think of my old country house.

The one I promised, that I’ll return one day

But perhaps-

I’ve forgotten the way.

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I'm a dreamer, scribbler, research scholar, and travel junkie from the land of five rivers, Punjab (India). 

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