Thingummies

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I remember those places I visited as a child through words I do not know. I miss my first home in the flowers that I never learnt to name. Those white petals that had bright orange stems, resembled jasmines, were strewn about the road. I know the way they smelt, and I know how they left wet patches on the soil when crushed by our car tires leaving.

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My Dear Bird,

My dear bird,

Fly, 

I have built us a home

With wood, dry leaves and marbles

Windows that look out to the sea,

And a backyard laced by mountains  

There is minty tea, a warm fireplace,    

For your tired feet my ottoman waits.  

When the future weighs you down, dove, 

When past ghosts your mind, come,  

I built this warm cottage 

On a timeless soil,  

My dear bird,

Fly.

#introtopoetry