A Road In Waiting

I love roads that take me to far off places, 

Bringing me back leaving no traces. 

Be it straight, uphill, short, long or winding, 

All roads seem inviting without any binding.

Asphalt, dirt track or a grassy trail, 

Mountain path, through desert dunes or highway by the rail.

Roads are where I belong, 

Those that lead me on for long. 

Out of ways where people throng, 

Like to walk on them humming a song. 

Roads flanked by trees, 

Thank them for their shade and breeze.  

Standing elegant and tall, 

Bursting with colours during fall. 

Flaming orange, ochre and rusty,

Enticing with winds blowing gusty. 

Rustling crunchy when on them we tread, 

As leaves in heaps, drop down dead. 

Getting blown by zephyr, 

Dust off, rising higher.  

Leaving roads lone and

empty, 

Back to being green and zesty. 

I love roads that take me to far off places, 

Bring me back leaving no traces. 

Roads that lead me into the intrigue of woods, 

Holding lots to unravel, I am sure I would. 

Walk my way through oak and pine, 

Getting lost would also be fine. 

Find my way through brambles and bushes, 

Greeted by butterflies, robins, and thrushes. 

A lonely grasscutter clearing the trail, 

As I trod on sluggish like a snail. 

I love roads that take me to far off places, 

Bring me back leaving no traces. 

A road I cherish with its long mileage,

One that walks me to my village. 

Dirt road, cobbled and red soiled, 

On which our forefathers had tread and toiled. 

To till lands and grow up in stages, 

It took a lot of grit and many ages. 

The road that took their progeny miles away, 

To shine their destiny, as they joined in the fray.

Elders had nothing to lose or fear, 

Knew the dirt road would bring them back every year. 

I love roads that take me to far off places, 

Bring me back leaving no traces. 

And back they did come to the road's calling, 

To touch their soil, smell the rain falling. 

The road that hosted much fun and bonhomie, 

That's the one that pulsates ecstacy in me. 

It's been long since I walked that way, 

Pulls me no more nor makes me sway. 

No one waits there for any of us, 

To hug and welcome, to receive and fuss. 

Forefathers resting up above in heaven,  

Rest parted ways being at sixes and seven! 

The road lies in wait, silent and still, 

Right on the banks of a river behind the hill! 

Tall palms and tamarinds on both sides, 

Thick foliage lines the village it hides.  

Psithurism from casuarina groves, 

Whistles, blowing hair and touching the toes. 

Along comes a bullock cart with its bells and chimes, 

Drum of hooves beating to the rhythm and rhymes. 

A friendly cartman offers a lift with a smile,

Will ride me to my village, a little over a mile. 

I love roads that take me to far off places, 

Bring me back leaving no traces. 

But one wants to feel, see, breathe in the elements, 

So I walk on the native soil alluring with sentiments. 

Thatched roofs in the distance, so quaint, 

Heartbreaks into a jig without restraint. 

A dirt road could fetch such seamless joy, 

Air, water, wind, and soil making a ploy. 

Bringing me back all those forgotten faces,

A path winding in my heart's empty places.  

Someday it will see me homecoming, 

Waiting to cherish that moment so loving. 

I love roads that take me to far off places, 

And some after all, indeed leave traces.