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This Is Not A Place To Call Home

But where's the heart, the hearth, the dome,

By Will Shimnom SimonPublished 8 months ago 1 min read
2
This Is Not A Place To Call Home
Photo by Jacek Dylag on Unsplash

In shadows cast by neon's cold embrace,

Amidst the city's frantic, hurried pace,

I find myself lost in this endless roam,

In search of solace, longing for a home.

I wander through a world so vast,

Where faces blur and voices drone,

In this wilderness, I'm all alone.

The streets, they stretch like endless veins,

Pulsing with life's joys and pains,

But where's the heart, the hearth, the dome,

In this sprawling city, far from home?

Amongst the strangers, I'm a passing wraith,

Invisible, a silhouette in their path,

Yet, within, a fire of longing burns,

For a place where my weary heart returns.

A place where laughter dances in the air,

Where love resides, where people care,

A place where memories freely roam,

This is the place I yearn to call home.

sad poetry
2

About the Creator

Will Shimnom Simon

Always the poet... Never the poem.

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  • Darkos8 months ago

    Beautiful and arriving into Hope ! much Love to You !

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