Home

I got a call today
normally I turn away
let the ring run out of breath
so I don’t have to use mine
only this call was a sign
picking up would be fine
and the voice on the other end
their ear they would lend
setting me up so I could send
I declined in the end
it was a message from home
we can call it Rome
forcing me to remember
how it started in September
why did you stay there
the questions were fair
at the clock I began to stare
I still know too much
end this before I need a crutch
maybe I’ll lose my mind and turn Dutch
a thought that once made me sore
didn’t want to miss it anymore
but I couldn’t help but think
about the strong link
that brought it all together
from the storm at the start
to the sunshine when I had to depart
the stories in the middle
I remember like a riddle
almost too well they could tell
and as we spoke
it hurt a bit to be happy
sorry if this is getting sappy
because I knew I was the only one
being cut open like a ciabatta bun
maybe I’ll burn from all the sun
all the memories that we carried
most of them were buried
don’t get me wrong
this wasn’t a sad song
just the opposite
happiness was on top of it
but the lyrics are long
time says I don’t belong
and if I flip through the pictures for just a bit
it becomes uncomfortable to sit
so much wit
because we were just there
a camera catching every stare
words to explain were a must
now they just collect dust
we left most of them behind
taking pieces with us to remind
but no one can go back
thinking about it used to cause an attack
we all get a plaque
but every once in awhile
I let myself smile
like we used to
whenever we did something new
or welcomed a few
to the group at the table
legs so sturdy and stable
ready willing and able
like a dream we were the cream
rising to the top
we couldn’t stop
did we ever listen to hip-hop
and these are the thoughts
that give me hope
maybe one day I’ll find another rope
to climb and call my own
so every time I pick up the phone
it will be okay to loan my mind
for as long as I can find
and peel back the dome
to talk about home
because I will always remember
how it started in September.


Young Empires – White Doves

Advertisements

About Paul

This is the part where I'm supposed to write something interesting about myself and you'll read it and think, "That's not that interesting." So let's not do that and just think about pizza instead, on the count of three. One, two, three. Donuts. Now, wasn't that interesting?
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s