Comfort food

And  we wanted not our hands sticky

In the summer of mangoes

she placed a few ones in our mouth each

to swish  down to our belly

 

Those pieces of  pilchards fried 

Kept for each one aside

Knowing how much we all liked 

To her children her pride

There were some specials and 

some which turned with memories 

We miss your cuisines dear

But we miss you more mummy 

Written for 

Friday Writings #177: Comfort Food

Surrender

Were the ways one  so strange 

To combat the violent gale

With bent knees , drooping shoulders

Before the violent storms 

Relinquishing all the longings 

 the leaves fluttering away

To be carried away 

To a place called beautiful anywhere 

The freedom so strange 

Of the boughs bending low

That let itself humbly

Would aide the storm pass over

Friday Writings #175: Stormy Weather