My routine oh

I take that route daily.
That home is on the way.
Never staring

at it somehow
Though, I know it’s there.

It’s the house that we grew up in
Where we lived our teenage lives
Not too elite just two rooms
Where all of our world used to reside

Though the house was old and rusty
The sunlight barely made it bright
Yet those crooked doors and broken hinges
Were somehow the soothing arms for the chilly winter nights.

It’s adorned with many masterpieces
On each and every wall.
Encarved by us and after all these years
Still they never got erased somehow.

Can’t forget that big backyard
A swing on the tree and two rocks beside
So many fruits and so many trees
My sister used to sing there while I chased butterflies.

Now we have come a very long way
And will surely leave the city one day
Many more adventures are yet to come
But, still searching for that feel of ‘home’

No day was like today
I glanced towards that rusty house
Millions of memories started to play
And I stood numb in the crowd.

Here’s a tribute, to all those days
When we resided, no, actually lived there.
Travelled a lot only to realize,
No place is better than those crooked doors and broken hinges.


Love the way you penned it. Another nice work :bouquet: