The Homecoming That Isn't
Nature,
The shy new bride,
Fresh from monsoon's embrace,
Decks herself in a festive hue,
And waits!
That scent,
That night-blooms ooze,
Wafts across the oceans,
And finds me in this foreign land.
A tease!
Fiery,
The leaves of fall,
Murmur jargon, arcane,
But the message I catch is clear-
"Come Home!"
They say,
It's the season-
When the daughters come home,
And the poor forgets misery,
And dance!
Alas!
I thwart their calls,
For I'm chained by this grind.
I sigh, and bid my home-bound train
"Goodbye!"
[ratemypost]