I'm on my way, from afar where I roam.
Go tell the forest and the lulling sea,
Your Connecticut lass, is coming home.
My heart does soar, it hurts and pines to see
The cloudy blue sky over forests dark,
The old stomping grounds where friends used to be,
The roads we oft travelled, memories mark.
Some laughter, some tears, Joy old and new fears.
I gain more of myself each time away
And lose some of my past, with each New Year
All fades and lingers, under time we fray.
No one may speak against you my own home,
My heart carries you loved ones, 'ere I roam.
About the Creator
Harlequin Curio
I started writing stories of magic from a very young age when I wrote my first skit. I then studied English at University and while chasing adventures in dance and acting, I still haven’t quite kicked the writing habit.
Keep reading
More stories from Harlequin Curio and writers in Poets and other communities.
A Minute's Difference
It was a Tuesday, 2:58...59 in the afternoon. My friend Andy was white-knuckled gripping the edge of his school desk, staring desperately at the second hand of the clock slooowly circling round, while our teacher droned on and on. A girl behind me cracked her gum. Another classmate was fervently scribbling notes. I was trying to look just awake enough not to get called on. Wrapped in my grey hoodie, eyes drooping behind uncut bangs, head leaning on folded arms, I appeared the cliche of a bored teenage boy, on the verge of daydreaming his way into a more exciting life.
By Ellen Stedfeld3 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.