There's Home

There’s a place somewhere I’ve never been,

There’s a house, a street I’ve never seen,

Where a little robin sings for me

So I may find my way.

There’s someplace somewhere I truly long,

A place called home where I belong,

A small backyard where I wrote my song

That I hope to sing one day.

There’s peace somewhere I’ve never known,

And a million memories of my own,

Where there’s a beating heart, there’s a hope

That I may find my way.

Though dismantled our world may be,

Where-on-earth you go is home to me,

When the day is here that I long to see,

All I ask for is to stay.

There are roads to go and dreams to see,

Yet it’s only home where I long to be,

Oh may the robin’s song soon find me

  So I may find my way.


Copyright Delilah Das 

Mirror

What’s silver and shows us our vessels?

What’s silver and knows not our depth?

What’s silver and often misunderstood-?

For it has a secret well kept.

What’s silver and often accused

Of shallow perception and ruthless honesty?

What’s silver and often charged

For its flawed insight and superficiality?

Who is this culprit we believe we know,

That we claim is silver for it appears so?

Yet here we claim to see beyond

 The superficial—what an irony, though!

What’s silver and shows us its vessel?

What’s silver whose depth is unseen-?

By eyes that claim flawless profundity,

What’s silver but shades of green?


Copyrighted by Delilah Das