She has an abode apart from her home
Where her memories do cuddle up like a cat
She flew like a kite with broken string in the sky,
Never questioned, free and loose in her abode.
Her childhood snores there, lousy on the couch
But vivid it draws, as a cold breeze tickles
When she sees any silly sibling fights or plays,
Or when she steps into that abode of hers.
Her diminutive study table, her book corner
The bed she shared with her little sister
The evenings she spends on her mother’s lap,
Her father’s care, her brother’s protection lay there.
The place that defined her, she belongs there
Aversion she feels, if she is questioned
As to why she felt to go there for no reason
Her roots are there, which no ring can dig out.
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