Poetry

Coming Home

Eager ears…
too many phone calls
A 12-hour journey.
Tired eyes.
Sore butt cheeks.
Familiar scents.
Ripe mango trees.
Fallen guava fruits.
Fragments of memories;
here and there.
Smile at the corners of the mouth.

In front of the house…
afraid to take a step further.
Phone rings.
I’m home.

Door flings open.
Legs running down the porch.
Still feet wobbling.
Arms enclosing.
Tears tumbling.
So many words to say..
yet none dares ruin the moment.

The bird is home
that’s all that matters
NOW.

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