In the midst of the crowd I feel lonely

As a withered flower in the beautiful garden

I lament over the past memories

I stumble upon the rocks of misfortune

Like a fallen unfortunate leaf

Being drifted away by the swift of the city  

Into nothingness

I pray for the arrival of spring in my life

The cold breeze

Coming from the all directions,

The green grass standing under the blue sky,

The crops swaying to the tune of the breeze,

Murmuring of the birds,

The flowerbeds,

The whirl of dust running with the homeward cattle,

The narrow pathways trodden during my schooling,

And all in the village

Beckon me.

 
'Nostalgia' Copyright © Rakesh Patel