The prodigal daughter

car tyres roll on
the crackling pebble road
I drag my laden footsteps
to the yellow mud brick house
the door of my childhood flung open
grandma greets me with
her broad smile hung on
her criss cross face
my body quivers
at the sight of
the new fallen snow
my heart is filled with
flushed blood of
coming home

Published by

Cassa Bassa

🇦🇺🇨🇳 inquisitive, observant, witty, a thinker, was a misfit child 😊

3 thoughts on “The prodigal daughter”

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