I woke up, then dressed up,
walked a little, walked a little more,
I saw a bustle, a kind of hustle
that's the heartland I know.
If I walk out at eight,
pass through the gate,
there I see a lad,
washing the cars others had.
That's the heartland I know.
The first right turn,
I see the sun,
so, I make a run.
To take the next left turn,
so as to not make my skin burn.
That's the heartland I know.
Folk’s walking,
Neighbour's talking,
some eyes stalking.
That's the heartland I know.
Hello there! In every square,
to not have someone say it is quite rare.
That's the heartland I know.
There are pups running around,
The dam behind them is what I've always found.
That's the heartland I know.
I walk a little more,
knock on the door.
A warm smile I'm greeted with.
That's my rock that won't shift.
This is the heartland that I know.
- Roby Lynn
- Author: Roby Lynn (Pseudonym) ( Offline)
- Published: June 28th, 2022 11:22
- Comment from author about the poem: My daily route to my rock: my home from home.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 11
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