Backyards beckoning my mind, titillating imagination,
making it jump and hope for something more this day
in life.
Working routinely, bored to tears, breaking outdoors
to see what can be scattered there.
Clothes hanging from a line, I wish mine were, a dog
lying in the yard, I wish I could play catch with mine.
Lawnmowers sitting under the shade, awaiting their
moments of use when the owner gets around to it.
Never having mowed, but if I were home, I'd like to.
Birds chirping, planes flying over, sun shining warmly
upon my head - wish it were my backyard instead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Sometimes there really is no place like home. Nicely written little poem!