What was that line?

What was that line
I wrote,
Of pebbles and insomnia?
What was that dream
I scribbled,
Of the sun and his bride?

The words in my dog-eared diaries
And the underlined paragraphs
Are fading once more,
The sound of my old voice and
The sight of my imaginary home
Is sinking and diminishing, once more.

Even as Heart, the blind chaperon
Keeps the feel of it so pristine,
But Mind, the unfaithful servant
Refuses to retrieve,
What has been parted by
Time and distance

They say, such is the fate
Of the Exiles and the birds
When driven
Out of their homes,
They have no luxury of carrying
Belongings and the loyal memories.

What was the giggly proverb
She said,
Of daughters and mothers?
What was the drunken smile
He toasted,
To our success and happiness?

The giggles and smiles have gone
My existence is disappearing fast
Now an ailing mother watches me
Quietly on the monitor for finite moments
A sad father continues to speak
Cathartic silences over the long distance calls

I doubt, O sweetheart, I doubt
Exile is your reality.
This is self inflicted, says the blind escort,
It is not you who has been thrown out
It is you who has been running away
From home, once more.