PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I lie there,
onion grass wrapped in my hair
watching the fields turn gold in the sunlight
I can sigh because I am
home, with
the dogs panting next to me
I could just reach out and
touch my beautiful childhood
the same way this earth reaches up to
hold me still

I can hear my mother clinking dishes
and singing off tune
and it stings,
my body
and soul
through the open window

I miss the gravel crunch and
the pine cone wind
I miss the trees and the
creaks of our floorboards
I miss the porchswing swaying in
a storm
and the lightning that would split the sky as
we watched

I would twirl in the rain
and walk down to the river and
listen to it slide through the rocks
and my heart would explode
my tiny heart,
never left this place
It never left my mother's arms
Her hands,
washing the pots
and singing off tune
to a song she never knew,
but pretends to

I lie there,
onion grass stuck in my hair
watching the sun stagger down to its knees
and I can feel it,
because I am home, and
this place is the
only thing that never left me