Home
This prison screams seclusion
My comfort a delusion
My Home an illusion
The distance left unspoken
I long for papa
His morning hugs
His deafening yells
His butter spread bread
I long for Mama
Her angel smile
Her exaggerated tone
Her sweet concern
I long for Tim
His wicked grin
His naughty ricks
His playful tricks
But ah, that comfort
I can no longer afford
Not forever, but for now at least
Whispers, comforts lie awake
In merely a dream
I tremble wishing hoping that this dream
Would never end…
by Crystal Sonia
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