Flowers

I look out towards the far east

The sun is warm but bleak

The wind it sends is still warm

but I know that winter is near

I came a long way from home

I do not know how many summers it has been

but I know 

this winter will not feel cold

Let me safely pack what I have earned

into this old bag I brought all those years ago

I pray for the one who has to go away first

to go back home

It is dark as I walk

The moon is generous and shares her light

I dream of the flowers in the garden

The skin on my hands is worn and dead

but I know I will feel them

I look out towards the far east

The sun is warm but bleak

I pray as I walk

I wish the flowers still remain.

Author's Note

I went away from my hometown, 2 years ago for higher studies. I rarely got a chance to visit home in this period. There was a small cupboard of my old toys that I hadn't touched in almost 13-14 years, in our storeroom. When I was finally returning home for good, I thought maybe I'll check up on those and relive some memories. When I got home, I got to know dad had thrown them away a couple of years ago. This poem is dedicated to them and my memories that went with them.