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.