promised land
Love, Nature, poetry, Travel


A migrant, I’ve no tales

of herculean tragedy

to my name, you see

not every trip is planned

nor every destination

fixed, it was a chance I

stumbled upon few roads

knowing one day I’ll go

back, I walked hesitatingly  

meeting few along ,aware

that home is a person we

go back to, my golden

abode is calling, my time

here is running out but

I’ve one more path to 

undertake before I call

it a day!

15 thoughts on “Migrant”

    1. I know Megha, home is always calling and the yearning intensifies over time. Its strange predicament to be in, but this is how it is :). Thanks for stopping by dear, hope your are doing better now, is ur maid back?

      1. Yes much better..yes she came back this Monday.. Do you remember Madhuri’s song” Mera piya ghar aaya”..that’s what ringing in my ears since

      2. Ha ha I can feel you, it’s really tough without maid, I am seeking one too to help me with chores, it’s very exhausting otherwise!

    1. Thanks Shantanu for stopping by, I am glad my words resonated! But isn’t the story for many of us ??

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