House on the Hill

stilts made of round timber
hardwood planted on the ground
holding up the fat body
of the home that housed us

yellow sun in the morning
lighting up the wooden wall
sending soft lights into the room
gauzy through mosquito nets

birds twittering and chirping
as if welcoming the new day
while parents tapped rubber
on terraced hills

like a fat hog under the sun
my home seemed to slumber
until the evening breeze
blow and cool the occupants

we'd make a fire on outside pit
and toast our luscious tapioca
eating them with honey dip
gathered from the jungle bees

the house coloured by dancing lights
from the little bonfire
seemed more cheerful at night
as we danced and sang together

Now all archived in fading memories
parents have left for glory
only the nine siblings
remember the time of when

I was happy then.