Dust and Dreams-A Journey
Lost Hometown (Reflection)
Lost Hometown
Hometown is not truly a home,
Not for vagabones that wander,
As the mystery of all unknown, evolves.
The moon looks foreboding,
Staring down with her unwavering eye,
Toasting another day's events.
The children are sleeping,
Their pouting faces snuggled,
Within the comfort of down.
The poets shall remain wakeful,
Until the dawn of gold,
Brushes fairy dust from their quills.
And I, I am wakefully dreaming,
Welcoming the peace that is night,
In utter fervor.
The starlight is all knowing,
As the unspoken secrets of Heaven,
Whisper of beyond.
Why should it be, then?
One can never again, truly go home,
For home is lost.
The richness of night,
Endless moonlit sky, has stolen,
The mystery and forsaken time.
Invisible reeds in kind,
Slither slowly to tangle,
Almost imperceptibly, with the past.
I shall remain but a gypsy,
Wandering aimlessly,
In search of the unblinking light.
Home, for now.
2002
Cristine M. DiMario
