Words erupt from this weak heart,

Which does not have the guts to say,

I love you and go home to you.

Your beautiful face shines so bright,

In those crevices of my brain lying here and there,

Trying to keep the original me alive,

In this far-off place with no real light.

I have lit my abode bright and yellow,

In anticipation that you'd come and bless it,

The medium and small sized beings residing in it,

Awaiting you with smiles and open arms.

The littlest of beings in it is curious to know more about you,

She looks curiously at the lights her father has lit,

Asking in her garbled language questions about you and the lights,

Won't you come to us, to the little being at night?

I want her to play with you in your warm embrace,

Just like I did so many years ago on my house's terrace,

Running with excitement lighting candles here and there,

In the cool November evening waiting for your warmth and care.

Come to us like you used to come,

I don't think geography is a boundary for you,

For you don't have any shape or form,

Which can be stopped by any law or charm.

We will be waiting for you at dusk,

She will be waiting for you at dusk,

Our ears will be open, our hearts awake,

For that warm whiff which follows your gait.