The colourful houses of bustling Bo-Kaap call me home.
The commanding call to prayer, dances on the beautiful decorations of the mosque’s dome.
The cheerful faces and echoing laughter of children playing and dancing awakens the dead streets.
The smell of spices arouses my hungry imagination, my mind filled with delicious treats.
From warm, soft and passing hands, a Salaam is shared.
The perfect pink sunset kisses the colourful houses goodnight.
It is said, when darkness falls, you can hear the sounds of freed slaves singing in unison with freedom’s cool evening breeze.
The cool soft breeze caresses my pink flustered cheeks, takes my hand and whispers “you are home, my child”.