PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I felt the wind today,

for the first time on this humid land.

My memory sparked, upon the scent.

For the first time, I felt home-sick.



Oh, how I long for the scent of the ocean...

I long for my native lands....

Where the breezes spray the ocean mists.

Here all I see is pavement.



There are no high cliffs for me to gaze upon.

The only mountains I see, are tall buildings.

It's so different here, as I embrace new life.

Back home, there were no strangers.



Newfoundland, my native land,

where the ships port in and out.

The swirls of wind never give you silence...

but here give me a sense of home.



Oh, how I long for the scent of the evergreen,

I remember the bonfires among the trees.

We could watch the whales, just inside the shore.

We could walk the streets in safety.



I felt the wind today,

for the first time on this humid land.

My memory sparked upon the scent.

For the first time, it felt like home.