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Will you be home?

She hears a voice, a voice which isn't a voice alone.
The chill of an October evening fades with the warmth that the voice fetches.
Seven seas suddenly dry up when she flies back to times,
to the world which has been caged in photographs.
Photographs, she feels, are the world's greatest treasure.
They steal moments out of a transient life.
She had chose to travel, to live and not just survive.
The girl who always kept to her home had for good decided to be a gypsy.
Her rough hair tore the fierce wind apart,
Her head strong wishes gave the world reality checks.
But, amidst all that was happening,
She had lost a part of herself.
The one who chased butterflies was now chasing life.
The one who loved shimmering lights now preferred to succumb to the night's gloom
Everything, she had taught her heart to believe was fine.
Until, that voice haunted her.
For, she could fight everyone but not her granny
Who wanted her butterfly to be home.
She had said, "What's diwali, when I don't get to see my butterfly dancing in those shimmering lights."
She had hugged her phone as she would have hugged life.
The muffled sobs that the wireless fetched
had died,
but she could hear what remained unspoken,
"Will you be home? "

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