The house we built when
We were on good terms.
I stopped there for a while
When I was passing by tonight.
A dinner table in the hall,
Two tea-cups that aren't
Empty. Bindi on the mirror,
An arm length wreath of
Jasmine that wants to find
Solace in your braids.
The small geoid marked
With places we wished to go.
It still rotates.
The door is forever open
And the doormat still flaunts
'Welcome' in colours.
The kid of our fancy calls
Your name and I haven't
Lied to her yet.
"Mom has gone shopping"
I repeatedly say and
Believing my words,
She goes on playing in
My head.