Who is on the plum tree?
Sometimes I just want to find my way back home mom
To your beloved mornings of faith
When I simply woke up to those motes of dust
Shining in thin air little playful with the sun.
To patterns of expected life
When you would pack my tiffin with all those colours
Of everyday love of a caregiver.
To rustic deliverance of your simple rights and wrongs
As mundane as your archaic beliefs
And deep within I was besotted to the pursuit of an alchemy.
I want to walk back to your dreams and simple beliefs
of mediocrity, of stability, of unshakable love;
My pursuit of alchemy brought me
To towns of psychedelic lights
To music and laments
To jewels and narcissi
To debauchery and to towns
where it rains and clouds
And it clouds and rains again.
When it rained then I would get drenched tossing my curls
The passion and plague of a teenage heart lived.
Each drop was festive as end of it all you drew me back to your beloved toiling arms.
When it rains now I just look at the colourful umbrella in the corner
I watch it rain from my window I fear going down
I stand protecting my own
I don’t let the rain wash away the remnants of my home.
I remember you said, this is my new home.©