O home that I had forgotten,
How could I not remember?
Vast, deep blue skies,
Kissed with soft white clouds.
I could touch those puffy waves of fluff
If only I were to stand tip toe,
Like a child reaching for the cookie jar.
The gentle sun peeks out
Through the fields of white
In glittering golden rays.
For a moment
Its bright face is smiling down
Then it ducks out of sight
Behind the nearest cloud.
An unending game of hide and seek.
O home that I had forgotten,
How could I not remember?
Lands of endless length
Stretch on as far as I can see.
On without a curve or bump,
On without hill or valley,
Without mountain and hardly a tree.
Some would call you empty,
But no.
Not to me.
What trees there are stand barren,
Shed for the winter's bitter, biting cold.
Oh home that I had forgotten,
How could I not remember?
The old gentle houses,
Some in dying condition
Now defy the odds
And strive on another day.
They are anciently old,
Or so they appear
On the outside,
Though I know not within.
They are dying old buildings
That some would call ugly,
But to me they bring a homey comfort
That I can't properly describe.
Oh home that I had forgotten,
How could I not remember?
Voices are different,
Like the houses they bring a strange comfort
To me.
Though I lived here quite briefly
And before I can rightly remember,
These voices sound somehow like me.
Familiar yet strange,
Comforting and sweet in a way.
Remembering this home that I had forgotten
Is like meeting an old friend again,
Someone I knew,
Once upon a time,
But we went seperate ways and forgot.
Now I see them again
And I'm happy,
Excited,
Thrilled,
Just glad to be alive
Because here this forgotten friend is again.
Oh home that I had forgotten,
I may never understand my attraction,
In truth you are windy, cold, and windy some more,
But you're pleasant enough to satisfy me.
Perhaps it's the frost that glitters each morning
On the miles and miles of wide open fields.
Perhaps it's the way the wind bustles along
And whispers in a scarce tree.
Perhaps it's the promise of snow every Christmas
and the flowers that pop up each spring.
But I like to think it's the vastness of blue
That's ever present and just out of reach above.
I may never understand this strange attraction
To such a beautiful, vastness of sky and land.
But I know I love it,
This home I'd forgotten.
It's cold and it's windy,
It's big and it's bare,
It's long and it's wide,
It's old and it's homey,
And it's comfortable enough to satisfy me.
~kaPo
Comments (1)
Beautiful. Made me long for the plains.