Who 


I identify with the disaffected ones,

The outsiders who look on and only ever look in,

Those who knew home once

or twice maybe but it got disintegrated.


If we roam,

We're seeking that place, that feeling,

Indefinable, unattainable, 

If we settle, we try to create it,

Recreate it, renew it


Every day.  









No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Bee

  Everyone has at least one moment in the sun.  Iaso was enjoying one of hers sitting outside on a hot afternoon during a particularly warm ...

  • Epilogue
    Jolie Laide There she hangs, his masterpiece and her own, Immortalised in paint, painted over until, A finished moment masks all tha...
  • What she had become - a beginning
      Her beating heart, so tired now, nerves worn thin with worrying, Her legs, led her, running on empty, to the place where she could rest ; ...