I want to go home

Walk in the garden of my childhoodRecall the names of the flowers

Remember of mother and watering can

Watch the sun sets behind the granite mountain

Where my ancestors ploughed the land.


I want to catch up with history

Play Seven Stones and Rounders

Until the sun sets

Play hide-and-seek in the moonlight

While mothers chatter under the starry sky

Seize that moments of a tradition

Lost in the voyage of time


I want to sit by the window

Listen to the tropical rain,

Watch the leaves get wet

And read books

That I will never tell the story


I want to walk down the pebble street

In the fresh mornings of the week

 Holding my sister’s hands

Cross the non-busy streets

Down the pathway to my kindergarten

Reminisce the old wooden school

Covered with rusty corrugated sheets

Lean against the old stone wall

And watch the wave splash on the wall of my school

“bonjour Miss Sabine” I say

“bonjour mon enfant,” replies Miss Sabine


I want to go shopping in that Wooden Shop

Owned by the Chinese Shopkeeper

Accompanied by my young and beautiful mum

Try the red pair of shiny shoes

Long white knee socks

The beautiful dress with laces and pockets

I am now counting the days for Christmas

A little girl’s dream in waiting

For that traditional family era to unfold


I want to sit on the edge of a cliff

Paint the ocean and the glitters from the sun,

Notice the ship in the distance

Make it sails through my painting


I want to wander hills and sceneries

Sleep on the grass and watch the blue sky

Listen to the streams coursing its way

Through the roots of the trees


I want to go back yesteryear

Watch fishers of men

Cast their pirogue upon the shore

And harks the whistling sound of the shell

That announces their catch of the day

Moments of a tradition abided, rich and passionate

My mother with her packet of daily catch

Is a memory scattered within me

A picture I will never be able to print

 I want to scope the islands

Walk the tropical beaches

Feel the white sands and watch the waves rise and fall

Listen to the birds tweet rhythm,

Between the sky and the ocean

Watch the children play,

Adore their sweet voices

And remember that I once was there


I want to draw the wooden house on staddle stones

Open the French shutters and wooden doors

Followed by the large stone steps

Home to my mother

Owned by my grandparents whom I never knew


I want to go back to the memories

Listen to the old songs that knew of the reasons

Lost myself in the conscious of my youth

Remember every first kisses, 

Smile at the broken promises and the tears

Laugh at the goodbyes that broke my heart


I want to write a handwritten letter

A vestige that is missing

Ink, pen, paper, handwriting

A magnolious preserves lost and gone

Replaced by emoticons

Of a young generation naïve and innocent

Their potency of words unknown


I want to roam south of the island

Climb the hills lavished by lush vegetation

Unearth my favourite wild fruit, the “prune de France”

Captured the wooden house of my grandfather

Home to my father

I grab the bamboo sticks

I will snatch the ripe egg fruits

Outside the house overlooking green valleys

is that wooden bench where I will sit

A reminiscence of purity, culture and tradition

A portrait of the passing of years

I cannot seize to adore


I want to draw my grandfather’s house

With four French shutters and two wooden doors

The roof made of Palm leaves,

a tradition forgotten by many

Memories of my childhood I savoured once again


I want to pass through the world’s smallest city

Go up the steep hills

Climb the stone steps overgrown with flowers

Reach for that small corrugated house

Smell the fried fish and coconut curry

See the smile on grandma’s face

Happy that her grand little girl is home

I will run in the garden

Where grandma planted fruits and flowers

I will open grandma’s wardrobes

And catch the passage of time when she wore sarees

The fashion trend of my ancestors,

And home to my father


I want to sit outside of the small corrugated house

On that big boulder overlooking the steep hills

I behold the smallest capital city of the world

As I watch the moves in the valley.

Pen on paper, I will write

France, Britain, India, Africa

The Land of my forefathers

This is the story of my passage of time

This is the story of an island girl

And that island girl is no one but me!ocean-466174_1920Post belongs to me.  




  • Thanks for sharing your childhood memories. I smiled during the entire reading. I was so there with you in the land of your childhood even though I wasn’t there. Such is the power of words and images. Thank you!

    Liked by 2 people

    • Thank you so much Ann! I never prepared this poem. Just that day I was thinking what to write, and I only started with some words about what happened in the past and the poem became reality. It was like the past was waiting for a day to come for the story to be told. Thank you for loving my poem. How sweet you are. Thank you so much! Have a wonderful week!

      Liked by 1 person

  • Good afternoon Diana. Thank you for visiting me today and I hope you had some great time off blogging. Well well, yes it is true that going back is never the same as the days when life was everything old and vintage, traditional and shabby. Thank you for loving my poem, you gave me the chance to keep writing. I feel so great that my poem is loved by my readers. Your profession gave me inspiration too. I feel so happy that I have met writers and authors over word press blogging lifestyle. You people are great! Thank you for being there not only for me but for others. I love reading what you lot writes about. Wishing you a wonderful autumn and happy weekend! Take care!

    Liked by 2 people

  • Oh Juli, this is so beautiful, I want to go too. I can see it all through the beautiful word pictures that you painted, granite mountains, moonlight and sky, tropical rain, cliffs over the ocean. Such emotion and elegance used to describe being an island girl and the ancestral home that is so important to you. Very nice. Here’s to beautiful memories.

    Liked by 2 people

    • awww Lana Thank you so very much. Good morning, and I hope you are doing great with your autumn season. Here everything is fine, just the usual busy days. And yes I was thinking what to write then this emotion from the back of my mind showed up, very gently and many years old. I started to write to see what will come up and the more I wrote the ideas made it clear that they were waiting a day for this old story to be told. And I yes I found out that I wrote a poem. I am glad you loved all the emotions altogether. I can sense how you feel about this written piece of the past. If only I could bring back the days. Thank you for visiting me and it was nice to read from you. Wishing you some lovely days. Take care!

      Liked by 2 people

  • I appreciated all you wrote, full of magical wonder, beauty and light. These are many blessings listed of a happy childhood. It reminds me of the works of Pearl Buck or other island born authors!
    Thank you for sharing on my own blog. . .Smiles, Robin 🏝

    Liked by 3 people

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