The Place I Call Home

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Out of the city and over the hill,
Into the spaces where time stands still,
Under the tall Big Tree touching old wood,
Taking the way where scholars once stood,
Crossing the old Station Road, losing my way,
But finding a friendly place where I can stay,
Those were the days, my friends, when we were young,
And strode down the road to an old cheering song,
When the dew on the grass was fresh every morn,
And we woke to the call of the bell at dawn,
The years have gone by, and sometimes I falter,
But still I set out for a stroll or a saunter,
For the wind is as fresh as it was in my youth,
And the guava, is still the sweetest of fruit,
So cast away care and come home with me,
Where the grass is still green and the air is still free.
Where the smell of the freshly cut grass still linger,
“Moh balik Kuale!” the roar to go back to see her,
So, let us all have a lovely and fruitful weekend,
Better yet, make it a weekend where fun never end.

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