Sometimes i miss home but it’s not actually home,
the hospitality of mama,
she doesn’t like it when i murmur,
i’m old but young to her,
she is happy when her children are around,
i think it’s the missment that’s in her,
i think it’s the love that’s inner,
care that never fades,
food that never ends,
jokes ever flowing,
laughs ever present,
mistakes always solved,
she can do wonders,sugar in tea and doesn’t dissolve,
sometimes i miss home but it’s not actually home,
it’s fun when she is mad,but not at you,
she can fix you when mad,
she used to tell me no with just a look,
sometimes i miss home,
it always feels like there is a different type of air.
Dark hands 