Homesick

The rain pitter patters on my head

Like a primitive drum

Calling me home.

Home to the world I once knew,

Home to finish what I need to do,

Home Sweet Home.

But, you can’t go back

To the way things were,

Home is a memory,

Distant and far.

No longer can I go back

To the safe world.

Where things were easier

And play was pure.

What happened to that place,

That place I once

Called home?

What happened to the safeness?

What happened to that purity?

It’s gone like a breeze in June.

I miss home.

5/24/1993