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