The house is always so silent,
With just the two of us,
The neighbors must sleep peacefully.
You’re in the kitchen,
Pots and pans clattering,
While I stare at a book,
Visualizing myself between those sentences.
I smell prawns, fish, and rice.
I smell typical malayali dinner.
I wouldn’t have it any other way.
A peace of prolonged vacation returns,
In its blue floral shirt and a Pina colada in its hand,
Toasting to the lightness of the souls in the house.
Both who welcome it with vigour and silent longing.