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