A house built for 5 instead of 500.
The comforts of home.
I wasn’t ready to just be thrown away from it.
Suddenly realizing things will never be the same.
I miss you Mom.
Dad.
The smell of cinnamon and dust in the fall.
The smell of salt and soap in the summer.
But no matter where I go now the smells are the same and so are the people.
Nothing’s quite enough
And satisfaction is distant and impossible for now.
-
Author:
Alex (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 8th, 2018 20:11
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
Offline)
Comments2
I understand.... Thanks for sharing these thoughts!
The scent of leaving home leaves behind many memories and comforts which now you have to rebuild. Good luck for your future.
Thank you very much! I'll need it!
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.