I try to remember the beauty of my village,
The safety of my home, the love of my people.
This big house in this very big city
Doesn’t care for me.
Through my window, there is nothing to see.
No one is walking through the streets and
Not any shops opened. No one is here
To see the tears falling down my cheeks.
I feel lonely, in these days of my quarantine.
I miss the love and care of my village.
I can see only the black clouds ready to cry.
My dreams are full of the greenery.
Can I reach my village again?
Can I see my people?
Can I sleep in the safest zone in this world
People call it “God’s own country.”
