Home Thoughts Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

There is no place like the home on this earth
Which can give pleasure as much the home can
And wherewith lie in connected
The memories of childhood.

Your home is paradise and the bliss which none
But the dweller can feel it,
But do not be mad after the return journey,
Think of reaching it safely.

Maybe it that you had an ancestral house at village,
But lived you not, grew you up in a town
And the days spent they in a rented house
Where parents had been employed.

And after that, you built a house of your own for them
But they lived not for long,
The new house turned into a haunted house
As for non-living,
None to light a candle at eve.

And you too left the place for a distant place,
Leaving them
As for employment and job,
Livelihood and food of the stomach,
Making a new one at your own service place.

Now say you judiciously, which is whose own,
The village house where one was born,
Where there lie in landed properties and the mud house
Or the rented house of the father
Where he had been employed
Or the new one which was built later on after getting service
To house them, but they lived not
Just to sustain the memories of childhood and the parents.

Or the last one he constructed after moving to
As for employment and engagement,
The service place of the son
Where is with his wife and the children
As for his job,
You say it me
And after his retirement, if he wants to be back to,
Where will he?