The kaffir lime’s canopy in G-block -
my mother’s friend grew it in her backyard
and broke off a few every time I went there
and gave them to me, but always in pairs,
the empress of fragrance, acid green and hard
their smell lingered, like sandal incense smoke
used in her shrine and down the lane somewhere.
Just a small, unpaved patch, yard’s too grandiose
there we played in the mud, her child and I
and there was the first tree I saw up close,
learnt what leaves, barks and seasons signify -
perfume entire lanes as the canopy grows.
Houses. And childhoods. Discrete blocks of time
characterised by sandal and kaffir lime.
I've finally managed to travel back home - the pandemic has meant the skies were shut for the last six months. Home leave is never easy but this one is a level of difficulty all by its own self...back here again on Wednesday for the fear fest October Challenge of Write...Edit...Publish... See you soon.