Published February 16, 2015 by Shreya Rajvanshi

Those familiar red and white
Walls with a sense of comfort,
Those narrow, clean streets
With a sense of warmth,
Give way to the clustered shops
Selling bangles and books,
And clothes and food,
And those familiar faces
With a sense of love,
The same old buildings that speak of
My childhood,
Those playgrounds and those swings,
Where I stood,
And where I stand now,
And keep looking at this
Familiar place,
My place.
This familiar town.
My town.
The only home I’ve known,
My home.


20 comments on “Home.

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