Where I had a home-

I wrote this for the children in Afghanistan, who are living as refugee's in Pakistan.

1
Where I had a home
there were windows and doors 
that opened to our hearts 
they were kept ajar to welcome the wind 
and all her acquaintances. 
.
The wind might have kept it open, even today
to call us back.

Somewhere in the large room 
I kept a piece of smile just next to my fathers glasses 
and that yellow misty newspaper, 
may be that smile grew into a laughter. 

2
The backyard opened to sun 
my mother used to dry my fathers keffiyeh there 
it smelled of lemon and soap and on some days of freedom.
.
When they bombed the backyard 
the keffiyeh smelt of burned flesh. 

Some days 
I dream of that place, 
may be my laughter is still blooming, 
where I had a home.