Somedays I yearn for my home, where I come from? perhaps where I belong.
My home in my mind is the place I grew up.
The church bells through the city during lunch time
The Muezzin so zealous, the monring call to pray, sounds like one made in the middle of the day.
The beach, the sand under my feet, the smell of the draw of the day resting in baskets waiting to be picked up.
Nothing feels like my home like the two bricks, on the same line spaced out by measuring your two feet
It could have been tectonic plates doing Russian twist below my feet, from that time on, my life would be different.
Could have been that I woke up, like this like an anointed king,
blessed, from that time on, I should find joy,
Could have been Cupid emptying his arrows toward me like a round in a semi automatic,
No respect for what could have been left of my heart, as long as he hit target.
It could have been, I discovered a treasure. One many spend a lifetime seeking,
Perhaps I’ve fou