Homesick

I don’t agree

When people say

“You are not a tree

You can go wherever”

Why I can’t I be tree

And stay where I was born

My Home…

Where the flooring

is of good old chips

Where the milkman

Comes before the sun

Where tea is served

Under a tea-cozy

Where the maid washes

The utensils so loudly

Where my grandpa opens

The newspaper with a crunch

And where I just have to walk

Till the dining table

To meet my family

I am sure I am joke

To the mango tree at my home

To him I am a plant

Without roots, looking for growth