And now as the world becomes obscured with mindless babble
Home is not so very far a place
She waits in a town built when it was yesterday
Surreal as the dream now lived today
Each and every day will never clock an hour
When the night is cool the residents leave their homes to play
Gazing high up into the treetops
Just before a thought to open arms, and fly away
Home is in the heart and calling
Yet each life must always end this way
Only then can one life become a memory
Past the silence just before the open grave
In her arms she shall become a greeting mother
And yet she only loves during the sunlight of the day
Too soon, The clock will strike the hour
Then all certain shall become so very strange
Once again the light has met the darkness
And once again home becomes a familiar place
Anticipating someone needed in this moment
When then known once they gaze upon her face
(05/20/2019)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem