The rain drums a steady beat on the outside patio
Steam rises from the tea in my hands
I hold on to the cup, savouring its warmth,
scrutinising my reflection in its brown depths,
its sweetness dissolving on my tongue.
An errant mosquito strays in my direction,
ends up a maroon spat on my stinging, swelling skin.
A lizard silently watches the proceeding from the wall.
Tongue out, tongue in, contemplations of a meal lost perhaps.
Inhale, exhale, the smell of old books,
dust and musty furniture mingles,
triggering nostalgia, tickling old memories
languishing in long forgotten corners of my brain.
In the next room, a pot gurgles, a kettle whistles, wood crackles.
My eyes sting from the smoke of the fire.
My nose finds a thread of smell, a familiar flavour.
A smile, a childhood favourite.
A sip of tea, warm happiness, a muffled radio plays,
pages of a book rustle, flapping in the breeze, sitting forgotten, on my lap.
A babble of conversation, loud laughter. I giggle.
The inside joke, a feeling of inclusion, of belonging. Family.
At my grandmother's once again,
at home after all these years.
