2 of 20

by Gabriel Fin

I miss seeing your cliffs
painted smooth and red.
I miss the smell of pine and cedar;
and the nights so cold and almost dead.

I miss the jingling of bells
hanging around the ram's neck
as he walks with the sheep;
little black and white specks.

I miss the old pond
where I used to play;
catching tadpoles
after a rainy day.

How I miss your hills;
like perfect breasts
they rose and fell;
and all your rocks where I'd sit and rest.

I miss your nearly deserted plains
where I could run and breathe.
Now I stand in the shadows of many buildings
and in city lights too bright to believe.

I miss your glowing stars
shining clearly through a quiet night.
They always told me I would long for home;
Now I realize they were right.

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Poetry: Homesickness

by Gabriel Fin

Poetry: Homesickness

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