Brown from African dust
My feet are weary with
Home so far behind --
Burning with wrath
Parching my lips till cracked
The sun beats down

Through clouds it now shows
With shimmers of raindrops
Littering the overcast sky --
Puddles in the parking lot
I have to skip over, a familiar
Hand in mine

Which was once smooth and lonely
Before subject to string
By the darkness lingering
Between the spaces in the stars --
The wood table centered so sweetly
By the lanterns

Which here never die
Long into the night
Burning by filament so strong --
They flow, but don't flicker
You can see, but never truly
What it really is.

Here and there,
So different but so melded.
Home is with you.
It will never else be.