Story of days of yore
infiltrated my mind
of that young butterfly
whose only wish was to shed her cocoon
and fly away very soon.
To flowers near and far
she undertook her journey
in the light of her north star.
Now, many years and petals later
she habitually summons
the memories of her cocoon
As colorless and contorted
as wingless and distorted
her heart aches for her first home
where everything was known
and everyone, called her own.
Photo by Jaxson Bryden from Pexels
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This is for all those who migrated over to a different city or country. While they may cherish their new lives, every so often, are caught reminiscing about old times.
Inspired by Kristiana’s November Writing Prompt #2
and V.J. Weekly’s Challenge
Amazing poem indeed! Very well written 👍👌
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THANK YOU!!!!! 😍
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The longing for the “old times” hits me especially hard during this time of the year when my most treasured memories of my native land were at Christmastime.
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Yes, holiday season gets especially hard. I guess it’s a price we pay for spreading our wings..but here’s to a beautiful and merry Christmas! 😊
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Wishing you and your family the same 🙂
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A yearningly, lovely poem…I can relate. I love it, all so makes me melancholy.
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Thank you Pene! Yes, a lot of us have made a world of our own but very frequently find ourselves reminiscing about the one which we were born in. 😊 having friends who are in the same boat helps 😊❤️
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Oh yes.
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This one’s deep! I’m away from my home since 2012 for work and feel every bit of these lines! But still I’m happy I take out time twice a year to see my parents 🙂
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That’s great that you are able to meet your parents at least twice year. It’s a hard balance between making a world of our own and paying a tribute/visit to the one given to us. Cheers to that balance!
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A beautiful reminder of the journey and loss. Thanks for joining in.
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Thanks again! 💕
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Most welcome.
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A lovely poem!
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Migrating can be difficult… 🙂 (I have lived in 15 countries or so. Lost count… I think I’m a Gipsy…
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Wow…15!! US is my second country of residence and I frequently find myself entangled in nostalgia and in the web of living and remembering. 😃
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Nostalgia is inevitable. I go back to France at least once a year. And I need to. Then after a while, I start ranting about this or that… Travellers always have one foot here, the other foot there…
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