top of page
  • Writer's pictureTony Frobisher

Home.


Home I made it to that beach, A thousand days and nights Clinging to a dream And the sides of a boat. Bailing water to keep afloat. Bailing from the unimaginable

Dread of a journey and unwanted departure.  Staring into the fading dreams In the lifeless eyes of those We left behind. I made it to that shore, Uncertain whether the pebbles and sand Would feel the same under foot. Not sure if the air would help me breathe, Or stifle and suffocate, An unwelcome wind. I made it to that place. A place of so many words, Nightly discussions of how And when and why. And what the future could be. But now I have seen my dreams Under drab grey skies And washed by haunted waves, It feels cold, not yet a home. But the smiles and gentle hands, Laid across my shoulders that Convulsed, racked with great sobs Of loss and fear and relief and hope, Those smiles, those kind eyes, Said welcome, home. In time you will learn to love The rain and grey, the cold of a winter day, The fog that lingers and the rare cloudless sky. And those pebbles and the sand Will feel as familiar as the smiles from those you left behind. You made it, home. 

1 view0 comments

Recent Posts

See All
Anticipation__Walk through winter trees_
bottom of page