Heart Of The Matter
I'm Not Really Here
I'm not really here,
I'm somewhat apart,
So fragile the state,
Of a slow healing heart,
Crossed over the border,
I make my escape,
My battered old suitcase,
Held fast with red tape,
And staking my claim,
On a seat on a train,
I head for the south,
Far removed from the rain,
The windows are muddy,
Could do with a clean,
I'm tired of the tempest,
I'm bored with the scene,
And mile after mile,
I travel through time,
A scribble of thought,
Generating a rhyme,
My constant companion,
Is somewhat amiss,
I offered a promise,
He sealed with a kiss,
Disembark at the station,
I'd been there before,
I ride in a taxi,
I knock on a door,
A look of surprise,
On the face I hold dear,
I crossed over the border,
I'm not really here.
Linda Harnett, ©2007
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I`m Not Really Here
I`m Not Really Here
