My thoughts on the place of my birth,
Are dismal,
White walls,
White town,
Are really brown,
Like dead leaves,
Long forgotten on the ground,
What colors I see are few,
And joy peeps through
A couple of cracks,
In the house boards,
I wish to cut the cords,
And forget,
My boring northern roots,
But tightened them around
My heart to hurt,
And pull my chin down,
I wish to have something,
To stand upon,
What’s a place upon the earth,
Above another?
Why is this a burn in my mind?
I’ll claim my beginning,
In God’s mind,
In his pool of rainbows,
From where all butterflies come.