I can't deny the allure of stability.

A red-brick house with a front porch and wooden pickets,
A mango tree with summer-drooping branches,
A spice garden in pitchers and pots.
The long corridor that runs to the living room,
The stairs lead up to the worldly roof.
Chiming winds curl the curtains on the windows,
Darkness recedes from south to north.
Where Your steps will echo in the rhythm of rain,
And where I'll be, drenched in your scent,
Reciting Tagore.

Ah!
What a life it'll be!
You, me and eternity.

I want it all and I want the road,
Sunsets, gasoline and upcoming bends.
My greed has never known bounds,
My hubris to get to you and get away.