Sauntering down the country lane,
With backpack light, and hand on cane,
So many memories were released to me,
It was as if I’d become a child again.
Here I had spent my junior days,
And all that I could do was gaze,
At scenery seemingly, not changed at all,
Still fields of corn and wheat and maize.
The river with its soothing musical song,
Continuously gurgling and singing along,
Lulled me into such quiet contemplation,
My presence here could not be wrong.
For coming home was a astute idea,
In my heart now things were very clear,
Henceforth this niche would be my base,
How enticing is this powerful nostalgia.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.