My home

My home is not a house

it is a land, but not a terrain.

My home is a public beach 

clean and without cops .

My home is the top of the hill

but not the paddock,

I live on the hill

and in the villa.

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My home has four corners:

the tree  from  cashew

the one with plum,

the one of  Cherry

and tamarind.

In my home you eat well,

fried fish with  patacón

salad and lemon .

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My roof is the breeze

warm  and safe

that  suddlently

and quietly suffocates.

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My bed is made of sand and earth

compost and stone,

my pillows are the waves

and my sheets are  palms.

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My home is mine,

not ours.

my friends visit

and they leave.

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My home is a come and go 

of illusions and emotions,

we repair the  disappointments

with carnivals and celebrations.

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My home has strong walls

sovereignty reins  and  joy,

the windows are gold

the kitchen is full of treasures,

and I love and adore them all!

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Poem: "Mi home"

Written by: Joanne Mina

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