Poets logo

Dreams of the Fallen

The home I long for

By Brittany MummertPublished 3 years ago 1 min read
1

As I walk upon this barren field,

I long for my faraway home,

The squat brick house among a sea of green,

The scent of pine and dirt intoxicating and missed,

Beauty is not this foreign place,

Warmth is not this alien sun,

Home is where I wish to run,

Stranded, alone I walk and weep,

The house is a single room,

The size is not important,

That single room holds my entire life,

Hopes, dreams, love, sorrow, past, future,

A space that only a home can be,

Under this sun I fall,

I dream of my warm straw stuffed bed,

Of a fireplace alive and roaring,

Of robust soup cooling on the table my father made,

Of a roof that catches the rain,

Or a window that rattles from the merry breeze,

Of a home I will never return,

O happy dreams,

I weep.

surreal poetry
1

About the Creator

Brittany Mummert

I'm just a LGBT+ writer trying to make it in the world.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.