We are the wanderers on these maps.
Where we sometimes drive on the dead end streets.
But at the end of every memory so sad and monochrome.
We all find the lights that lead us home.
Sometimes we are lost and sometimes we are found.
For and to our loved ones on these roads.
But with every emotion, we paint a poem.
Happy that there are lights that lead us home.
We are scattered pieces on this play board.
But we are connected through our times together.
So many things that hang on with us are awesome.
Sometimes we forget the lights that lead us home.
Our people wait for us at a place faraway.
The place from we came from, to be who we are today.
Let’s not forget them while playing these games of life and wisdom.
Their blessings are the lights that lead us home.
Written by Mrinali Madhav
