longing for the old country
where its inhabitants would eat your tender belly
and spit out what would be left of any backbone
you are neither just off the boat
nor are you 15 quid short of the price needed for membership
your contacts are clouded by a pretty shade of pussy willow
while you struggle to juggle disparate worlds in the search for the perfect
ISO
Semi-Daily Scribbles
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Posted in Acceptance, Aging, Beauty, Beginnings, Belief, Change, Childhood, Community, Connection, Conversations, Dreams, Endings, Family, Fear, Habits, History, Home, Human Nature, Identity, Image, Intention, Language, Lessons, Loss, Memory, Misunderstanding, Nostalgia, Observations, Pain, Perception, Reality, Solitude, The Journey, Thoughts, Time, Transformation, Truth, We’ve met before., Work
Semi-Daily Scribbles 
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