How familiar the road towards my affection,
A clearly mapped out route without meanders.
The stately mango tree starts the walk,
Then the old stone house before making a left
Past the ancient stone-walled well by the gate,
The moss covered azotea will loom into view and
I will be there, waving to greet your coming.
How unerringly we find each other in familiar
Country lanes and land marks constant as the sun.
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