It's insidious, that
After 20 years uprooted,
Transplanted to this city I love,
A few hours back and my feet will barely
Heave from the dirt, so
Heavy with the weight of
All that I have been.
My heart is given to
Urban dreams of cafes
And concerts and crowds,
But here, that vision is overlaid with dirt
Road, bonfires, guitars and
Country twang, the lingering warmth
Of being wrapped in a blanket that smells
Like doughnuts, mom and home.
I must drag myself from this
Woven bed of expectations, dreams,
Security and hurt, and unfurl myself
Back in the light of my real life.
(Still rough, bear with me)