I often dream of my old home,
of all the rooms I used to know,
familiar stairs, doorways, and halls,
and the pear tree out the window.
I find myself there, all alone,
remembering how things were before,
when the new owners suddenly appear,
and tell me, “You don’t belong here anymore.”
rooms tinged with a childhood sheen,
memories packed behind each wall,
a beating heart beneath the floor,
and echoes lingering down the hall.
That place is not home anymore.
even my dreams tell me so.
but why does my sleeping heart return,
to a place I can no longer go?
I don’t belong there anymore.
my boat has been set adrift,
perhaps my dreams are guiding me,
like a lantern through the mist?
I do not know where I’ll take shore,
nor where I want to be,
but beyond these wide and sprawling seas,
adventure waits for me.
Frostwritten 
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