I can see home
infront of my own eyes.

swirls of blue
that can cover every emotion
over our heads

there are deep, proud blues
that keep your head high
when you wear them
and mean that you actually smile when meeting that common enemy
that is your passing reflection

that common enemy which often haunts you
on the sides of buses
and hides in shop windows
in plain view.

there are misty blues that I see,
and with it
the smell of salt in the air
and the tenderness of your skin
the soreness of your exposed shoulders
when you put on a t-shirt
after breathing in the sun
all day.

then, there are greys,
the appeal of an oncoming storm
beckoning to you
like beautiful merpeople
singing songs to your soul,
grey
is the colour of their gravestone tides.

I can see home
infront of my eyes

no I don't see the greys
the blues
in the skies
no I'm not
confined
by London
anymore

I can see home
in front of my eyes
and home
is wherever I see
yours.