kampong days

by mandaceehb

glossy leaves cupped in playful hands

tossing dirty sand into mild curvatures impressed

by knowing fingertips

it is lunch time

and they speak animatedly in the

shade of trees

palms forming pliant spoons,

dishing out rice by sweeping sand onto the ground-

they never have to clean up after a meal

making miniature fashion pieces from

leftover scraps of material scattered beside Mama’s sewing machine

(she makes all their clothes)

stick models don outfits haphazardly snipped with scissors

they are most excited when Mama calls them

hurtling out to the yard to pick up whatever fruit they find before the neighbours wake up and take them all

it sounds like an orchard the way she describes it: mango, rambutan, jambu trees

but what she loved most was climbing trees-

and there goes her secret