Going Home Poem by Amar Agarwala

It's been long years since I've been home
And I miss its warmth and care,
Flag-stoned path and fire-place warm
A blossomed garden to spare.

I know yet stands the maple tree
Which I climbed when I was small,
Its branches gnarled and crimson leaves
Soft shadows kissing the wall.

Would I still find those glass marbles
I buried under the oak?
Old plastic toys under my bed
On the rack my father's cloak?

Would mom be lazing on the porch
Knitting some woollies for me?
My dad yelling at me to stop
Carving on the willow tree.

I wish would see my brother Ed
The little darling he was,
His banter and his squeals of joy
With the gifts of Santa Claus.

I can still see my grandpa's ranch
Hot summer's reaching its peak,
Rowing in little wooden boats
Down the waters of the creek.

Oh how I wish those days come back!
Just once more that I could be,
Spending time with my favoured folks
Snared in camaraderie.

Such wishful thoughts oft cross my mind
In the yard where I now lie,
Perhaps my neighbours think alike
As they bask under the sky.

Been long, been years and ages now
Since those days have passed me by,
They took away my mirth and glee
Leaving me to rant and sigh.

Then let me share a secret dark -
A nightly errand I run,
It is in search of some comfort
Though I know there would be none.

I still visit on lonely nights
Our cottage below the hill,
It's anchored like a ruined ship
With its phantoms plying still.

Our garden path is full of weeds
Where lichens and brambles rest,
The house almost falling apart
Which was once happy and blest.

They welcome me with loving arms
And urge me that I stay,
To sulk along with shadows there
Until it's another day.

To eavesdrop on old haunted sounds
From the by lanes of my past,
Which lie buried with frozen breath
In their crypts that time has cast.

I slither past the littered floor
Then rise up the staircase old,
I pause beside my parent's room
With memories to behold.

I grovel past the sooty walls
Howling for my bygone days,
I reason not they've gone for good
For such are my ghoulish ways.

I float around in circles there
And I know not what to find,
I curse my hallowed lifeless self
And berate my fate unkind.

And then I flee back to my yard
In a morbid state lo sad,
I have no choice but bear with death
Having squandered all I had.
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