The place I call my home

has the familiar smell

of your favorite talc 

or moisturiser 

or something...

...and of numerous incandescents

that burn themselves out patiently

as silent testimony to your devotion

in front of the Gods

every afternoon

and every evening...

and every evening birds fly home

in a particular direction....you said

when, at much higher levels

people are flying

in all directions

some reach home...

some don't