A return trip to your home is like
Taking a public transport down the memory lane.
You see everything travels back.
City belles pass you with their frivolous cheers.
In the wet corners of suburbs,
You see the local ruffians fight over nothing.
The green shades of countrysides
Caress the brainy part of your head
With their soothing pats.
Through the window,
You also see the memories travel back
Flashing a lost agony or pain in the heart.
We have wings; we have the spirit to move,
And are trussed with no firm commitments!
So we fly, like nothing there to prove
To that bliss blemished by no sentiments!
The days break out, that we see in our flight,
When the glorious Sun comes out in ambush!
We behold the seasons, in their destined shift
Into a transient time, like in a golden gush!
We care not of the seasons change, for sure,
Nor of the tragic plights of fallen petals!
We care much of the way we endure,
Till the time comes when everything settles!
Thus, singing the song of freedom, that everyone wants,
Wings-spread, we fly beyond the far-far ocean lands!
