little cottage on the hill
lime washed walls, timber frame
holds a million memories
father’s gone to sleep
beside mother under stars.
children have flown away.
the pine tree is cut down
the poinsettia too,
red geraniums, gladioli and dahlias
all died, one by one.
and though it’s Christmas time
we’re not going home
for home is home no more.
when summer comes
wild daisies may bloom again
but we won’t be going home
home is home no more.
Malsawmi Jacob was brought up in Shillong and now lives in Bangalore with her family.
This brought me to tears, mesjay. So poignantly beautiful.ReplyDelete
You said it for me, Calliopa....ReplyDelete
Calliopia, thanks for posting this. I wrote it in tears too.ReplyDelete
ruolngulworld, thanks for reading...
"father’s gone to sleepReplyDelete
beside mother under stars.."
I especially love this heart-wrenching line. You don't often hear adults talk about how much they miss their parents who have passed on but when they do, you feel that deep, aching sense of loss that's under the surface most times but never goes away.