The Land In The Middle Poem by Chris Schleier, Jr.
The Land In The Middle
Home is in the middle.
In my youth, I climbed the trees there,
I walked and played with my finest friends.
Weary with the weight of my kin,
the trees sway in the open breeze.
Almost as to sing me
home.
Recently, I took my love home.
In the clear of night,
on our backs - gazing into the
deeps of stars and nothings.
Looking at everything.
A tear runs down past my ear,
and I realize...
I was never home
until now.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/5/2024 8:09:00 PM # 1.0.0.1119
