Dear Reader,

here's a poem about home. i hope you enjoy.

Rushing cars, aging scars.

Honking horns and corner stores.

People to and fro, not even a single hello?

Text and call, bump and scowl.

Musky air, frail and still.

People stare and glare.

Buildings sky high, not a single star in sight.

City lights and frightening nights.

Is this home?

For you maybe, but not for I.

Waving wheat, a golden sea.

Old men talk in a country store.

Dirt roads and potholes.

Open fields and skies so blue.

A warm breeze blows right by.

A quilt of many colors spread out wide.

Never fear of what's outside.

Firefly's and sweet goodbyes.

This is my Home.

Laura Powell (Pink)