Homecoming – II

I remember the spot on the balcony-wall

Pleasure-made, blackish brown on cyan,

as I rubbed and rubbed my feet

laying the dust on plaster,

some underneath. Never thinking why.

When I came back here, 

opened my world of closed-down familiarities again,

I smelt and felt and licked and ran and 

became crazy again,

I understood why I had made that spot on the wall.

Years ago, I painted a part of my soul

inside that house. Auburn-black.

I came back searching for that road long forgotten,

just to find a sapling in place of a dead tree.


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