I planted kisses on your back
and watched you grow into my home.
I drew my flag on your chest
with steady fingers.
But I lost too many battles of our silly civil war
and kept a vapid, trembling score.
I conquered your valleys
but could not climb our hills.

I traversed other mountains,
and let cold winters make me numb.
I flew to bright blue oceans,
drank from the fountains of nature
and its inhabitants.
I tried to leave myself behind
in topography that I could never learn to love.
I determined my home to be whatever I chose.

But I would trade my Sahara
and every aboriginal
because no other country
grows wild with my kiss.