So many roads lead back home,
But not the one where I was born.
That first wet road was slippery,
With curves and hills and holes,
But every mile I travelled on,
Without knowing, I headed home.

Those many highways,
Like a wheel,
Were radiating spokes,
But like the wheel,
They're circular,
So always lead back home.

Anxiety in our mind stops us to take proper decisions

Brilliant minds
                Don't ignore their mistakes

But rather
        they correct them to move ahead

In the present scenario،
            Only Sunday time
                      Is the finest thread


To sew unstitched relations

Would I do it all again
For the price of joy,
The debts of pain;
For the strains of love?
What would I gain?
It could never be the same.
Not better than we had before,
With entwined lives,
With all we bore.
Yes, all that,
And one day more.

Words won't die,
But worders do;
The turned phrase stays
Young as you.

Where do these pangs go?
Dying elephants don't know.
Old Hollywood shows,
Brigadoon and El Dorado.
At the bottom of a *** of gold,
Beneath double rainbows.

I read Chaucer
When he was young,
And Emily too,
And Rev. John Donne.
Batter my heart...
It still feeds
My heart
When I read.

"Squeeze Please" presents as a cute word rhyme,
But its grip and depth
Is unique and sublime.
Part hug, some cuddle, but
More like a tickle...
It's fickle!!
Yet,
I sense familial love songs
When
My limbs contract to stop his wiggles-
And then,
Before he starts his giggles...
My knees squeeze...
That’s when I heard,
Without one word...

Squeeze because you love me;
Squeeze because I love you;
Squeeze because I feel protected;
Squeezing keeps we two connected.
Squeeze Please makes me feel secure.

Please squeeze... please... squeeze please me more.

Squeeze me to my happy place.
Squeezing tells me that I’m safe.
A squeeze will make me feel content
Your squeezes tend to give me strength.
Then Squeeze tight for respite and peace,
Like a weighted blanket as I sleep.
Squeeze me like a pet boa,
Squeeze because you're my own Granda.

I hear and listen when he says Squeeze Please;
That cute word rhyme really speaks to me.

(Now loosen and Squeeze Please some more.........................)

I woke to the warning blasts
Of fog horns on the St. Clair.
They comfort like a weighted blanket.
And the rain falls evenly, now,
On my vegetables,
On everyone's lawn and garden.
All is as it should be this morning.
Quiet, ordered and secure.
I'm glad I'm not over there,
Or anywhere else,
But here.

Who waters dead plants?
Me.
Who pumps air into tires with holes?
Me.
Who spits into the wind?
Me.
Who swims against the current?
Me.
Who presses the walk button at intersections?
Me.
Who clicks BBQ tongs to make sure they work?
Me.
Who hits the save button more than once?
Me.
Who kills puppies?
Kristi Noem.

Do you see
How all things
Have conspired
For an average ******,
Like me.

I am grateful
To evade
The poxes
Others have endured.

The cold, the hunger, the homelessness;
The hate, the fear, the lonliness.
There's more.

I have never
Stretched out
A hand or fist
In want, fear, or hate.

I held chalk, and *****, and babies.
Such things sealed my fate.
Peace and Love
Filled our waves;
No poppies and crosses
On a friend's foreign grave.

Yes, all things conspired.
And this time got it right,
To live happily ever after
In my middle-class life.

I need permission
To break through this invisible forcefield,
To give you a hug,
And make it not ******.
Yet...
We both know
It not to be true.

Got some hope today.
It felt like a tingle.
In my insides somewhere.
This was familiar.
I was reminded that the world
In which I was born,
Was just as ****** as now.

Somehow, we're muscling on.

Nucleur threats,
Idealogical jets,
With invasions, wars and debts.
I kept abreast of the U.S.S.R.
Covered heads beneath school desks,
Bent over likeVesuvians.
Korea, Viet Nam,
And on and on;
Granada, not Canada,
Look what happened in Iran.
Did you see them hang Sadam?
I can still hear the alarms.

We still keep muscling on.