THE PLACE WHERE I BELONG TO

I stepped into the room.

It smelt familiar.

The curtains were the same.

Bright sunlight beaming through them.

The floor still sparkled.

I opened the cupboard.

My things were shabbily stacked in a corner.

As if someone wanted me out of the way.

I sighed.

Closing the cupboard, I found my table missing.

Replaced by a more glamorous piece of furniture.

I decided it was wiser to move somewhere else.

But again, wasn’t it my place?

It truly is.

The window sill sports my coffee mug stains.

The walls still bear my pencil marks.

The same songs play in my mind.

I belong to this place.

And the place, indeed, missed me.

Badly.

Courtesy: Google

I CANNOT REMEMBER MY MOTHER ~ Rabindranath Tagore

I cannot remember my mother,
only sometime in the midst of my play
a tune seems to hover over my playthings,
the tune of some song that she used to
hum while rocking my cradle.

I cannot remember my mother
but when in the early autumn morning
the smell of the shiuli flowers floats in the air,
the scent of the morning service in the
temple comes to me as the scent of my mother.

I cannot remember my mother
only when from bedroom window
I send my eyes into the blue of the distant sky,
I feel that the stillness of my mother's gaze on my face
has spread all over the sky.

~Rabindranath Tagore
Note : This was one of the earliest poems I read,loved and cherished.

FranKophone

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THE PLACE WHERE I BELONG TO

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