Going Home? Poem by Stan Rodriguez

Back to San Francisco am I going
just to know if I exist
or are the dreams of going home a fraud,
like lampshades on the sea?

going home—she keeps on calling,
calling me to please come home
it's been so long I can't remember
why I left there—on my own.

Many were the times of laughter
tears and smiles, they were there too

All the lovers I remember
but their names have faded—
to the names of just a few.

Going home—I think I'm staying
far away where I belong
let me live my life hereafter
with just dreams of going home.

I'm too old to make the journey
and too old to start anew.
Let me live my life in wonder
of the home that I once knew.