Imagine this was a city set in stone, 

this was the whole city on one long almost never ending road. 

You'd approach it with an arch as if welcomes hugged your shoulders, 

be greeted with majority Somali community drinking tea whilst watching tv. 

You'd not need to walk long to find one of the local schools, 

a church 

and a supermarket open all the time. 

You'll find buildings that have been abandoned, 

the community walking past. 

The local aldi where we couldn’t find our bearings of home. 

The almost looking ring road leads to corners of other cities you may cross if you want 

but don't think you will.  

We are separated by smells

of curries, 

aseed, 

grills and desserts 

We know scent sticks on our clothes so we spray perfumes before leaving moms

This city made home, 

because it welcomed my mom. 

It taught her resilience,

and grit

It taught her to be strong

Muttering English words in an Arabic brain 

Flustered by comments made 

But this city is home

For as long as she resides

Finds comfort on the sofa on a Saturday at 7pm

Closes her eyes with 10 kids playing around her 

Naps with noise 

The hustle and bustle of my home. 

This city 

My mom

Is my home.