It is a long way to home.

Home, where sometimes I know

no Home.

Well, what is a home

When the heart is

Always a nomad.

Somedays here, somedays there,

Somedays found and

Somedays lost.

The sun shined above the fields of heather for me

Today.

Maybe an invite

Wrapped in purple to lure

and call it a

Home?

*

My mind runs faster

Than my deformed feet.

*

My heart is still sunk

In the memories of

Yesterday’s winter.

The cold and dark

My motel for a long time.

They let go of me

Even the frost needs rent,

And I am penniless

With no dimes to rub or spend.

I am back with my old friend

The shadows from the alleys.

Together we lurk

Like the ghosts of a long lost legend,

Listening to the jingles and looking at the twinkles

Oggling at drunk wanton cherub faces of

Joyous December,

And remembering the warmth in the innards

Of our soul

That could vein in us

With hot boiled spirits.

*

I ran the entire length of spring,

Blooming buds of cherries and daffs and all.

Baby greens dotting the widowed trees,

A new promise laid in

The womb of time.

Branches singing together

With the mirth of mynahs.

 

Let this be where I breathe

In and out now.

This cloud and sun speckled ground

Where I dance the songs

Of lost dreams.

Lost,

With the youth of time.

 

But I still know

I am miles away from home.

And I still know,

I will return back to that motel

I once belonged.