My home

April 30, 2011
Most wake up with cars, the noises
Rarely do meadow larks call or doves croon
The sun casting its light on the sleeping shadow
Silence greets you
A freedom so free separates you
Vision goes on with no end
A horizon untouchable
A lawn made diverse
Plants of different names, insects of different origins
Look around is there a herd of prong horn grazing
Can you see them
The wind whistles, trees always sway the grass always waves
A dirt road, two tracks, ruts eating there way no where
Can you simply walk on no fences just gates
A space that’s yours
Where is this place
If you searched a map could you find it
Across the world maybe
What if it was where you wanted
Maybe not this place
But one that’s made
How about this is home and it’s something unlike any other
In away it’s already there waiting to be found

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