Desolation. Winding Roads.
Last winter’s sadness
Has reverberated back around.
A heavenly melody, a dark sound.
You never stay long enough
For me to finish a poem. You never create
A space for me to call home.
Never a place to call my own.
Desolation.
Abandoned homes.
Old haunts. hometown bars.
Last years christmas lights strung on
a wooden fence.
Desolation. Winding roads.
All I wanted
was a place to call home.