Yearning Home...

Mouth watering dishes and sweet toothed cookies awaiting at home,
Ever longing granny and river bound ally baths awaiting for some.


My Holi-holy days began with,


Colorful kites dancing in the sky,
and intimate buddies prancing in rural way.
Stealing guavas from farmer's fields,
and sealing lies from recent movie feeds.


Late night gossips,
and gate flight mischiefs became a grave habitual.
Afternoon warm baths, 
and rinsing sins with temple visits became a usual ritual.


Once in a while hear great granny's bed time stories,
Chance in a mile we run at roadside candies.
Munched on stolen chopped mangoes dried at neighborer's terrace,
Plunged into the mob for a rural cock fight's glance.


The day with a nap on my mom's lap 
and the day after a gap at my home's wrap ceased my Holy-holi days.