Packing

Suitcases carefully digited,
Bags zipped up, I stood
At the end of my obligatory visit,
A guilty sense of relief
Lurking in me,
Amidst the hurried goodbyes.

As I took off to the sky,
A rueful realization, gently clipped
My winged thoughts of freedom,
Inspite of such meticulous packing,
I left behind
That one thing, dearer than most,
My heart,
In a place I once called home.
© 2009 Rituparna Das