From the autumn leaves filled streets,
dreams bloom through the mist.
A passport in my hand, a heartbeat within —
“I’m going home again.”
Beyond the airplane’s window,
clouds drift like white silk waves.
Somewhere beneath the sun’s far light,
my homeland breathes in my memory.
Like the winding curves of the A9 road,
my thoughts return and twine —
Kandy’s hills in gentle green,
old friends’ laughter echoing unseen.
And among them, glimpse of quiet crushes
still blooms in secret inside me.
As Jaffna draws near,
a shadow of fear stirs softly —
How will 'they' react?
Will my friends still remember me?
Will they make space for who I’ve become?
Will they accept my short invitations?
Will it cloudy and gloomy?
Can I do something useful here,
something that matters at last?
Yet as the plane begins to land,
a calm rises from within —
Whatever awaits,
this is my soil, my pulse, my kin.
Leaving behind the foreign chill,
I feel the homeland’s heat ignite —
but that warmth,
is love in its truest light.
Like every other crushes, I am now
Enroute to the little crush.
சிகரன்,
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