As dusk paints the space dark,
Towards the bed the fishes fleet.
They cajole my home in heart of mine,
My aged parents sit and wait,
For half a dozen children bred
Afar they dwell far to see,
With love of self-grown and gone,
Painting their dreams high and vast,
Of aging parents' love and trust,
Wrapped in blessing and the prayers.
I shall return with the fleet
My hardened sole of blistered feet
Resting cold on foreign land
Into the arms of aged hands
With blossom dreams and winged hopes.
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