The Road To Home

Oh, My Dear homeland, I yearn to reunite with you, Not for your love alone, But to tread the weathered path, winding beneath my village, Laid with stones and scattered remnants of time, In moments of disarray and wandering, It unfailingly led me back to my village, Guiding me to my mother's waiting arms. I don't long solely for you, my homeland, I ache for that ancient road, It resembled my father's loving gaze, Always illuminating the way to my sanctuary. A road of stones and scattered debris, In times of bewilderment and despair, It unfailingly guided me back, Back to the heart of my village, Back to the loving lap of my grandpa. My longing isn't for you, my country, It's for that time-worn trail, That felt like a God's warm embrace, Always leading me homeward, In the labyrinth of life's journey. Does that old road still wind its way, Or has it succumbed to the relentless march of modern traffic, Its once peaceful path now a cacophony of honks and engines? Do doves still make their home there, Those gentle creatures that once serenaded me in the hot summer, Their soothing coos a balm to my weary soul? I wonder if the past lingers in the shadows, Or if it's been swallowed whole by progress and change, Lost to the ceaseless march of time. I long to return to that old road, To hear the doves' sweet melodies once more, And to find a piece of myself that may still reside there, Amidst the chaos of the present.