The Runway

Clock counts final minutes of the day
Of leaving forever the land so known,
Leaving the road and bi-cycle…
Green field so wide for flying kites
And joy of catching the first butterfly,
Shared with innocent playmates there …
Memory of some grey afternoons
With heavy a heart & blank eyes,
Here I’m going to forget, forever …
Surely, never I must come back
To eye the unhappy faces so pale,
Being so cheerless of coldest touch …
Now, enough is enough, the show is over
To better the living point I have to fly,
Taking off the ground so dusty & impure …
No clear idea of another home-town
But still there to land with nothing real,
Only a face so first will appear, as I dream …

[My beloved wife has left me point-blank in this world; I don’t know if the provision of our love or attachment to each other has been consumed already but it’s true till the end that we must meet each other again some how in somewhere else … it’s again me to wish now to my ever sweetest-heart ‘Safe Journey’ … Oh me… .. .!]