Poetry

Freedom

Home away from home-this is what they call it,
A new place, new winds, new colours, new faces.
As the strange winds feel stranger, the place feels more familiar,
The faces show new colours and the roads keep winding further.
We slowly start falling in love with the cool irregular breeze,
We see the beauty in the serene night sky,
The loneliness becomes our stern teacher.
The clear sky and its moody hues become our favorite show and we learn to become our own person.
We learn to become our home,
Our own pillar in times of darkness and our own shoulder to cry on.
We are then truly independent.
Only then are we truly free.