Monday, March 30, 2009

growing home

Her name is Pain.

I see her in the window

Looking out from my eyes.

She is my friend.

We travel through the countryside

Rolling down these tracks

Passing happy strangers by

With light loads on their backs.

She's like the rain.

Forming droplets on the glass

Bringing gray and glooming skies

Growing flowers, raising grass.

We're on our way somewhere.

A place I've yet to know.

I haven't ever been there,

But it feels a lot like home.

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