I dreamt of pink Bougainville covering the brick walls Yellow Roses neatly lined in the front. And a few more roses in the shades of white, red and pink Dahlias that swayed in the slightest wisps of wind Air that smelt of foliage and petrichor Sounds of bees Creeping earthworms Guava tress perched in the backyard A moringa tree filled with caterpillars Squirrels loitering A Mynah singing A king cobra lurched somewhere A champa tree filled with flowers Hiding my treasure A hibiscus tree with falling barks Bel tree A Christmas tree I stood there and pondered on. Traipsed cautiously not to step on the snail Waiting for the creaky gates to open Adjusting my ear to hear the sound of the whistling pot Whiffing the air for the aromas of freshly cooked food Waiting for the sound of laughter, innocence and childhood I waited on. And realized I had been there once. This is a far fantasy now safely locked in my precious memories. This was home.