Home

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.