Peeping from my window,
I ponder what to write?
About homes that are endowed,
With sadness and plight
Little Johnny, now so grown,
Leaves home in search of soul
Wizened face of Mama so brown,
Bewails with an unheard howl
Lass out of her adolescence,
Weeps with a broken heart
Unable to forget 'His' essence,
Searches him in every other heart
Concrete buildings with homes like these,
Appear to be strong, but are factually so weak
With silent tears and promises to cease,
Day by day rising the sadness peak
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