On dusty roads where hope is sown,
A young heart dreams, a seed is grown.
Amidst cracked earth and skies so wide,
A whisper calls from deep inside.
The village hums with daily strife,
A tapestry of simple life.
Yet in his eyes, a spark, a flame,
A boy named Ravi, bound for change.
His father’s voice, stern yet kind,
Echoes doubt that ties and binds.
Tradition’s weight, a heavy chain,
But in his chest, ambition’s rain.
Late at night, by lantern’s glow,
He reads of places he longs to go.
The city gleams with stories told,
Of futures bright and fortunes bold.
Each step he takes, the road’s embrace,
Dusty winds upon his face.
Friends who cheer and voices plead,
Stay or go? What does he need?
The morning comes, a choice is made,
A tear-streaked path, a farewell bade.
The city’s din, the lights, the rush,
Newfound dreams and morning’s hush.
Yet home, with all its roots so deep,
Finds ways to call, in waking sleep.
A letter’s touch, a silent pain,
Reminds him of the heart’s refrain.
So he returns, to fields and sky,
Where past and present intertwine.
On dusty roads, dreams may roam,
But oftentimes, they lead you home.
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©AYUSH AGARWAL
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