by March 23, 2019 1 comment

Homeland has first appeal
Until the finite break

The unfiltered air spits
Troubled feelings on me

No weather sun or salt
Desires my reasoning

I long for warm childhood
Theirs and mine long put abed

This bothered place I love
Unfettered criticism

Only binds my music sounds
Of heart and falling tear

As I leave them for France
Always afraid to go.

editors note:

Emigrant, immigrant; regardless of perspective, home is our objective. – mh clay

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