My home sweet home!
You are better than Venice,
You are better than Rome,
Your streets with crimes,
Explosions and killings,
You have lovely rimes.
I know the dwellers,
I can talk anyone,
Don't find the strangers.
Whereat I can walk,
In the powerless nights,
And complete dark.
Where dogs on way,
Don't bark at me,
Fearless of bites and betray.
I know your demerits,
I am used to with it,
And love your merits.
Whereat I can drive my old lovely bike,
And can go to a place of my choice and like.
Everything is familiar and nothing is new,
May be it a fog or it may be dew.
They all know me and I know them all,
At home, I know what to do if I fall.
Nice may be Venice and lovely may be Rome,
I want to go back to my home, sweet home.
(This poem is written at Riyadh, Saudi Arabia)