It’s forty years since I’ve been in this house,
mum sold it soon after father died.
The owners changed it into a Chinese takeaway
which grew bamboo shoots outside.
Since then I’ve moved about like a gypsy
journeying from place to place.
Recently I returned to my old neighbourhood,
and yet to see a familiar face.
And now I’m standing in the Chinese takeaway,
the place where I was born and bred.
When I left here it was my mum and dad’s café,
with an alley, back yard, and shed.
In 1944 they bought this bomb damaged house,
with its old bicycle repair shop,
but they changed it into a ‘second hand’ business,
selling clothes, boots, and what not.
In 1949 it became an ice-cream parlour,
which evolved into a transport café.
For almost thirty years that’s how it remained,
until the year dad passed away.
Orlando Belo
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/coming-home-39/
