We long, at last, to be back home:
to travel through that open door
that leads us past familiar walls,
the foyer of our memories --
the hallways of a life ahead --
this is our final, last disease:
to see the lights come on, outside,
and know it's time to finally
go home
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Tagged: Tags Poetry
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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One thought to “homesick”