Leah Ayliffe

Bronze Star - 2,018 Points (June 8,1991 / Toronto)

Child Of The South - Poem by Leah Ayliffe

7 D aisle, F window
When will I get my turn
To sit beside you on this flight we're on
Where is our ticket to
A place where we all belong?
Some call it home
But I'm still guessing
And questioning if we'll ever make it
Cause the turbulence is strong
And makes waves when it comes like the perfect storm in the sky
Yet we carry on, go on, smiling all the while
Trying to enjoy the ride
When we begin to fall a thousand feet through the air
The altitude deafens our minds
Do we dare smile on?
Passing by white dreams that deceived me once as a child
Thinking I could play and sleep within them
A pit stop for the kids to fly on their own
It gets quite shaky
It shakes and quakes and leaves us shaken
Are we awake on today's aircraft?
We fall so fast to kiss the ground with violent passion
Yet it goes so slow, this trickster of time
I can't see past the mist, is that the ocean below? is that the sand from the south I've been dreaming of?
I think I'm home.
But I'm alone.
Where have you been, it's been so long
I suppose it's in these lonesome hours
I am free
I can sing like the singer I was meant to be
In jazz corner bars and hotel lobby's
On the island in South Carolina
I was always here, my soul my home
This is my home holiday destination
Always constant
Staying pretty with its old vintage style and palm trees that line the streets
I walk these streets, old and familiar
Throwing my ticket away to the breeze
I was sent back to this place
The destination where not all belong, but my childish heart belongs
Alone
Finding my soul
In the oceans salty waves at midnight
And the tequila tasting just right
Riding my bike like a little girl in the sunshine
While the basket holds a styrofoam coca cola cup
But you and I know it's not filled with coke
I, the moon child of the south,
Realizing the peace of true freedom in the windy sea at dark, the air waves and pure frequencies
Realizing, they will give me a new boarding pass, new shiny chains, cause home is not constant
Until my dearest and most beautiful friend kisses me hard enough to send me to the real world,
To the place we all belong.
I hope someday while soaring in the sky, I will plummet and give in to deaths arms.


Poet's Notes about The Poem

Inspired by my trip to hilton head island South Carolina, the place I used to vacation every year with my family.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, July 31, 2014

Poem Edited: Friday, August 8, 2014


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