4 AM
The only noises are the voices in my head
And the sounds of these letters as I type
Rain and wind fill the outside
But inside is too quiet
Home yet not home
A stranger on familiar ground
Was I really from here once
It seems real but I can't be too sure
Need someone to tell me about me
Because I don't remember too much
The streets are the same but the blocks have changed
Like a detective looking for clues
About a person of interest who's gone missing
Was I really ever here at all?
1 comment:
This is beautiful. I started to say I relate to it, but it's not just the specific experience of going home - it's that so much of life can feel like this each day even in the same familiar place that you were in the day before. Hmmm, that sounded far more dark than I intended. Again that longing for connection and the honesty are cuttingly real, but nor showy. It is not a lonely poem although there is aloneness. Interesting. I like to be interested. Write more please, Rambler.
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