Homesick Poem by Adrian Antique

Call it weakness if you wish
Like taking out of the water this fish …
At times we could hardly breath
Trapped in an airless bubble of immeasurable width.

We miss our bed for two
And the wooden walls of blithe blue.
They talk to us with a kindness that's sober and silent
And clothe us with lightness when our day's spent.

And yes, our books many thick and some thin -
A pile of little universes we've never really seen …
Yet we've ventured through in their lined-up words
As kites with no strings flying with the birds.

Our little abode where we grew so many dreams
Like a pile of stones on our running streams,
Like ripples on a pond calling for rain …
Our soft window seat on a happy, moving train.

If only we could run away from where we are now,
Cut short our singing and just swiftly take a bow …
Although the choir would lose the voices we so shared,
We must seek the chimes of the times when we deeply cared.

So then, let our hearts mingle with the breezes
And feel the scent of our very own place that never ceases
To twirl on water a mirrored picture of home -
Like this pebble in my pocket, I carry where I roam.