Wanderlust

They say Home is where the heart is,
I would agree, but what if the heart wants to move around..
Moving around in rickshaws to buses and auto, looking at people staring back.
Years have passed, like cities..
I do not really love being here, but there is a corner in my heart..
For you..
For the filling you provide to my life,
For being the constant of this vagabond..

This time again, it is not at all tough for me,
Answering people when shall I come back again..
There is contradiction in emotions too. 
I am not sure how important these people will be..
Or you, in that matter,
You will remain a muse forever.
For being the constant of this vagabond..