I can't stop dreaming of West Point
The tall imposing granite that I still call home
The cadets who marched into our home with "sir"
But were found in the basement in undershirts watching football
The crisp autumn leaves on the mountains and down the road
The safety of the Post, where crime was almost nonexistent
My friends living a block away, who I could call on the spur of the
I want home to find me here -
In my new house.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.