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It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen the snow. I have gotten used to the warmth; but this place still doesn’t feel like home. As I walk these streets I’ve learned, I’m not sure if my feet are even my own. If I only went back once, to that beans and bread town, I could still walk those streets to my first friend’s house. And I would still hear condemnation from the preacher man’s mouth. But the skies here are kinder and the winds don’t hurt my ears I could walk these paths in silence, let myself be softened by the years. My mother’s anger can’t reach me here I can’t feel the absence of my father when I’m lying on my back in the sun by the water.
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Apr 2
Apr 2, 2026 at 11:00 AM UTC
On a Walk
It’s been quite a while since I’ve seen the snow. I have gotten used to the warmth; but this place still doesn’t feel like home. As I walk these streets I’ve learned, I’m not sure if my feet are even my own. If I only went back once, to that beans and bread town, I could still walk those streets to my first friend’s house. And I would still hear condemnation from the preacher man’s mouth. But the skies here are kinder and the winds don’t hurt my ears I could walk these paths in silence, let myself be softened by the years. My mother’s anger can’t reach me here I can’t feel the absence of my father when I’m lying on my back in the sun by the water.
RubiFoster
Written by
28/F/FL, USA
Apr 2
Apr 2, 2026 at 11:00 AM UTC
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