The dream it came to me this night
I know not where, for I have never seen this sight
The people I’ve never met,
Phrases and accents I cannot get
Yet this place is home
Home is a journey I long to set
Following roads and paths I’ve never walked
To see people and places and gawk
For this is where I belong.
How can the dream be wrong?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I can almost equate this poem as in joining this website: Where we never know who we're talking to and where they are all from. Who take the time to read our work because they give a da**. That wasn't intentional that it became a rhyme. Ben, what can I say? Love your work. Another '10'