A Sky Of Melted Butter,
Harbors The Setting Sun,
Suspending It Above,
Flustered Waves Of Blue
I Smell Like The Sea
The Sails Against The Sky,
Have Turned To Silhouettes,
The Gentle Waves Caressing,
The Edge Of The Horizon
I Taste Like The Sun
Seabirds Have Flocked Together,
And Are Now Flying Back To Shore,
Slumber Has Teased Their Eyelids,
For The Jaded Waters Are Vast
I Look Like The Stars
The Moon Has Floated Upwards,
Casting An Ivory Shadow Below,
The Wind Has Now Become Calm,
The Blue Waves Have Become Still
I Sound Like The Breeze
The Salt Encrusted Wind Cooled;
The Sky Was No Longer Gold,
Sails No Longer Dragged Their Cargo,
Across The Blackest Of Ocean Waters
If You Were To Touch My Soul,
You Would Only Grasp A Word.
Home
*© Sydney Victoria 2014
I Have Pondered About The Word Home Many Times In My Life. I Oftentimes Grasp The Concept Of Home When I Feel As If I Have Escaped Into Another World, One Where I Truly Belong. When I Went To South Africa, I Found My Home. At Heart, I Think I May Be African.
