MI Yaad
Through winding roads and mountain highs, Under golden rays in endless skies,
I ride this path, one final time,
Through the heart of home—where roots still climb.
The white sand stretches, soft and wide, Like mother’s arms, warm with pride.
Blue waves whisper, kiss the shore,
Singing songs I’ll hear no more.
The sun leans low, its amber glow,
Hugging skin, so rich, so whole.
A breeze rolls in, light and free,
Carrying the scent of the tamarind tree.
By roadside stalls, the fire roars,
Jerk spice dancing through open doors. Smoke and flavor twist and twine,
Soaking deep in chicken’s spine.
Reggae hums from the corner shop,
A bassline thick that makes hearts hop. Voices laugh, and hands keep time,
To rhythms old and beats divine.
I carve these moments in my mind,
Memories sweet, forever mine.
For though my feet will leave this sand,
