Walking down a busy
thoroughfare,
People pass me by;
Some young, others older,
and a cheerful bunch of kids
returning home from school.
I used to be one of them
many moons ago;
No cares, no snares,
just whistling in the wind.
Please take me back
to the home I belong to.
I am tired. I am weary. I am worn.
Colombo, Jan 4, 2019
Fish
My babies - last of the Mohiccans
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