The Return

Lets embrace the past.

He sits beside the window, glancing at the meadow,

the glassy brook flows loudly beside,

the pebble are smooth and whisper of the history.

He looks outside at the grove passing by,

the shadows are playing with patterns,

the invisible tree-lined path goes through the middle.

The farmers sit relaxed from the works of a good day,

the scarecrow did his job well,

as the peasant kids wave at him, he waves back.

He looks at the sun dipped in a crimson red,

as the clouds carve patterns on their canvas,

he can hear the lonely bird screech at the skein ahead.

A sigh, and he closes his eyes,

he takes a deep breath of that holy air,

the scent engulfs his body and soul.

The familiar smell takes him to a world apart,

diminishing images flash and fade away,

and he regains that long lost feeling of safety.

He can remember those long summer days, when he crawled up that tree,

those evening meals when they ate sweet potato together,

he can listen the lullabies from that dark windy night.

As he approaches, the images get clearer.

A sigh, and he opens his eyes,

a glance at his watch and there is a smile on his face.

He sits beside the window and looks at the meadow,

it is  dark now but a moonlit night,

the stars have never twinkled brighter.

The feeling of comfort intoxicates him,

the folds on his forehead have gone, leaving behind traces of their existence,

there is that sparkle in his eyes that I thought he lost.

The roads tend to get familiar with every crossing mile,

the side walls of his old school are higher,

the finger unknowingly keeps pointing at images from memory.

Now the smile is a grin,

that sparkle is a tear,

His home is still far, yet so near.

 R.S.

Author's Note

Feel free to write anything. Criticism is welcomed. :)

Reviews

[Effector Prime]

every night face down on my bed I cry.. for love is lost; love is dead. not the person, of whom I hate now, but love itself. for that love will never be felt in me again. it's dead. face down I bear these emotions. on the bed. misty soft bed. closed eyes.
I now have a fitting imagery through your poem, a beautiful landscape to wrap around my lonely hover in the dark. thank you for sharing. this has got to be one of the most colourful cute sweet gorgeous and girly poems I've read. and I've read a ton :)

[Roopal]

Thanks a lot !!!! Compliments like these keep encouraging me !!!

[Effector Prime]

likewise :) write, by all means write! keep writing no matter what they say.. it is your right to write.. for your thoughts deserves to be absorbed by the world outside rather than just whither away (inside).. it will also exponentially improve your Writing skills:) thanks for sharing this wonderful piece :) err peace lol :D

[@encryptedshahbaz]

Hey Roopal...I liked the title along with the tagline very much. Your explanation of the beautiful nature really is commendable. Good Work..:)

[Roopal]

Thanks a lot !! :)

[Travis Gibson (poetic h..]

Lovely piece... i could feel the emotion of this piece. A wonderful way to make the reader reminisce of their favorite place to be.

[Roopal]

Thank you so much. you are a kind reviewer. :)

[jacob erin-cilberto]

again...a poem that brought me back to Vermont...when i had revisited after 40 years..the smell was the same...and it made me young again...running in the pastures again.

Rose already hit the editing button for you...but a nice piece of writing..
nice description.

[Roopal]

I'm glad I could do that. I am new so feel free to edit and or mention flaws. thank you for your sweet reviews. You all give me so much inspiration and encouragement. :)

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i will mention..but like i said...Rose had already mentioned what i was going to..

enjoyed reading this...i like the heart in your work.

[SyberRose]

Roopal...I did some editing for you dear...since you sent this to me and i read you authors note too.

He sits glancing at the meadow,
the glassy brook flowing loudly;
and pebbles are smooth,
whispering of history.

In a distance is an orange grove
the shadows are playing with patterns,
the trees smell of a sweet fragrance.

The farmers sit relaxed after working all day,
the scarecrow did his job well,
as the peasant kids wave at him, he waves back.

The sun is dipped in crimson red,
as the clouds bloom upon the skys canvas,
he can hear the lonely bird sing ahead.

He sighs, and closes his eyes;
and takes a deep breath of the pure air,
the scent engulfs his body and soul.

The familiar smell takes him to a world apart,
diminishing images flash and fade
and he regains that long lost feeling.

He can remember those long summer days;
when he climbed that tree
evening meals eating sweet potatoes together,
and listening to lullabies in the dark windy night.

As he approaches, the images get clearer.
and he opens his eyes, and glances at his watch
there is a smile on his face.

He sits glancing at the meadow,
it is a dark but a moonlit night,
the stars have never twinkled brighter.

The feeling of comfort intoxicates him;
the folds on his forehead have gone,
leaving behind traces of their existence;
there is a sparkle in his eyes that I thought he lost.

The roads become familiar with every crossing mile,
the side walls of his old school are higher,
but he does not forget images in his memory.

Now the smile is a grin,
that sparkle is a tear,
His home is still far,
yet so near.

R.S.

[Roopal]

Oh my god Rose !!! thank you so much. this means so much to me. I will learn from the editing and do better next time. I'm obliged that you took out time to edit my poem !!!! That is so sweet of you. Thanks again !! :D

[SyberRose]

I was happy to help dear...hugss

[SyberRose]

Feel free to paste the edited one if you like.