A Poem by spinargote

When a two-hour phone call left me feeling numb.


Home will always be

on a street implying royalty

ending in a curve

with tall lights that flicker endlessly.


Home will always be

shuffling to the bus stop on dewy mornings

puffy jacket engulfing me

waving good morning to a neighbor

who'd always walk his dog that couldn't see.


Home will always be

burning sunbeams kissing trees

ice cream truck parked out front

in the middle of the street

small hands clutching at popsicle sticks

chewing on misshapen eyes, a sugar catastrophe.


Home will always be

sharp countertops and a scar

around Christmas time, unfortunately

grinning with tears on my cheeks

hugging a little girl close to me.


Home will always be

roundtable discussion

with sisters surrounding me

giggles galore and fond smiles

with parents teasing lovingly

my warm family.


Home will always be

not too far

but not close enough

interstates being the only methodology

for returning

to a home that will always be.

© 2017 spinargote

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Added on October 30, 2017
Last Updated on October 30, 2017
Tags: loneliness, thoughts, homesick




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