I stood behind my window that overlooked a stranger's
refuge. With snowflakes covering the roads in foamy flare,
and coating the once Autumn leaves and vibrant May flowers.
I stood there listening to strange voices that fill the air,

of echoes that chime in the stillness, and of murmurs full
with longing for a place called home. O'er that horizon nigh,
I see Inah calling me for a cup of hot sindul,
and see Indah's sisterly smile etched in the tropic sky.

I see Utoh playing amongst the pristine ricefield crest,
and see our nipa hut 'neath the troughs of Arcady's verse.
I remember those walks down the ember roads, and God blest
pacific rains that felled vibrant mists on leaves and flowers.

I remember listening to unstrange voices that fill
the air, of echoes that chime in the stillness, and of fay
murmurs full of belongingness in a place called home. Still
as I stood by this window, gazed at the vastness that lay

in the midst of voices and coldness of this place I roam,
warmth wakes within, in reminiscence of that place called home.