Longing.

I feel trapped in this city of dust and concrete

It’s the city of joy and yet I find nothing

My heart goes out for a piece of green

And the chirping of birds, ears so keen.

I want to take a long peaceful walk alone

Without smelling gas and petrol, air borne

Without getting insane by honking car

Without stumbling on rocks and tar

I want to start my day by picking berries from trees

Sit in a café sipping coffee with your loved one and look at the sea

I want to go for an after-work stroll in the beach

Drive on the weekends to hike up the hills that I can reach.

Sounds like a dream? Yes it is.

The funny part is such dreams do exist.

I was a dreamer alright, but without hope, until I lived the dream.

Outrageous demands and frivolity, to some, it may seem.

I'm not here for money, not for luxury items

No time for people with big nose or ego

There is abundance of joy and love in the little things

Gotta get out of the concrete jungle. Forgo. 

Perfection finds one when he isn’t looking at all.

And then he looks for it everywhere, feeling frustrated and small.

Floods of thoughts, at times a Tsunami.

Poor to lose it, or Lucky to have lived it once?