The Home Coming

The Home Coming

Farms are like arms for many livelihood,

So lush, pigmented that crafts the mood.

Songs of creatures rock up the total air,

Aromatic zephyr only makes a farm unfair.

Farm splendor is faultily valued today,

Great urban migration grows day by day.

Sons abandon farms like emptied nests,

Rove cities only to dupe with vilest angsts.

‘The home coming’ once in the blue moon,

An act of a true Son but it’s too late to on.

Glancing by the farm view with heavy trots,

Only to uncover a calm to eerie farm in rots.

Fathers wished sons’ early home coming,

To rejoice the glory and heritage passing.

At last with no hope but only to sow prayers,

Sons’ return must turn farm’s yield in layers.

- Rinchen Wangdi