On Home and Horizons
At least three times since I have been back to visit my parents, I have thought:
“It’s nice to be home.”
Then I remembered that I haven’t lived here since 20 years, half my life.
Home comes when I feel my heart
Drop its weight in relief
At the sight of flat land running
Forever towards a early storm.
Elizabeth, Is that your poetry beneath the picture?
Hi Chris. Yes, my photo. My poem. XO