I learned “Mumma” and “Papa” once,
and somehow, life let those words find you too.
Two homes held me in their own ways,
but my heart… it always ran back to you.
Mumma would leave me with you, without a worry,
because she knew you were my another home.
In childhood, when she was caught in her school work,
you were the one holding my hand, never letting me feel alone.
I would come to you with small tears and smaller reasons,
and you turned them into something soft, something light
before I could even explain my heart,
you had already made everything feel right.
Your home… it wasn’t just yours,
it holds more of me than I can ever say.
Those walls still carry my childhood
every little fish I drew, every moment I left that way.
I didn’t come to say you goodbye,
maybe I never had the courage to…
but today when I stood there,
your doors were closed, and it didn’t feel true.
That corridor stood still and empty,
yet filled with echoes only I could hear.
And suddenly, everything came rushing back
my whole childhood standing right there.
You used to smile and always say,
“Keep my photo in your pocket,
and it will always be full of money.”
I used to laugh, never understanding
how rich your love had already made me.
Mumma and Papa were always there for me,
holding my world together in every way…
but you… you held my childhood,
in the quiet spaces of every day.
There are so many moments, so many memories,
I can’t name each one, can’t gather them whole
but every single one of them
has left a space, a quiet hole in my soul.
And today… everything feels scattered,
like pieces of me I can’t rearrange.
I’m standing here with memories in my hands,
trying to understand this change.
So this is not a goodbye I can say
just a poem I leave behind for you,
for the home that made me who I am…
and the love that still feels so true.