You are the misplaced flower pots that my eyes reach before I enter
You are the sweet sound of the little ones running all the way from the door to hug me
You are the red flip-flop and gumboots covered in dry mud and sand outside the door
You are the loud noise of the neighbours asking for ispinachi sika MaDlamini at 6am
You are the “finally!” that rings through my head as my body sinks into my bed
You are the definition of peace, love and belonging the ‘no place like home’
You are home