I will miss the quiet, selfish nights,
spent among books and TV and music.
I will miss missing home
while feeling at home
in a foreign country.
I will miss my time being my own
to split between friendships, travel, or nothing.
I will miss the feeling of my own body,
free from the dirt of past indiscretions.
Free to be myself,
foreign though I may be.

they are our dreams
some slanted
some straight
all stranger
than our everyday

we marvel
at the creations
of our inner eye

we cling to them
in moments of loneliness

they are ours
only