I blink my watery eyes open.
It’s freezing cold — needles piercing through my skin.
I see her smile, wrinkles adoring her face;
She takes my hand and tilts my chin.
We had home and I feel unspoken.
The lights, like sprinkles, shine in my eyes
I think I am in my birthplace, my dream space,
There are people around; they do not disguise.
They are my people and we are not broken.
I start to cry looking at the snow —
This isn’t true. It was once a real place
But now it’s just a constant dream; a sideshow.
Jul 2, 2025
Jul 2, 2025 at 12:35 PM UTC
I blink my watery eyes open.
It’s freezing cold — needles piercing through my skin.
I see her smile, wrinkles adoring her face;
She takes my hand and tilts my chin.
We had home and I feel unspoken.
The lights, like sprinkles, shine in my eyes
I think I am in my birthplace, my dream space,
There are people around; they do not disguise.
They are my people and we are not broken.
I start to cry looking at the snow —
This isn’t true. It was once a real place
But now it’s just a constant dream; a sideshow.
you start to truly love your home, once you’re away.
06/12/24
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