It is a part of me now.
The smell of fermenting hops in the wind
white flowers and jasmine in summer
the call of trains as they depart
foxes at night, inquisitive introverts
the smell of rain after sun
flying ants on the patio
unwanted evidence of cats in the alleyway
the sweet stench of doughnuts, not yet forgotten
ice cream sirens, a warning to placating parents
low voices in the evening
windows stretching open
feet on carpet that still acts new
This is home
This is (**)me