Your Home
The opaline morning milky skies
I can’t hear the birds
They have flown without goodbyes
To the better world
Outside it’s very quiet
Just like by remote
Sounds come when off I stride
Up and down the road
With a bag full I return
From the morning gloom
I’m a guest here on my own
In the sitting room
Would you come to visit me
Even as a vision?
Shall we drink the airy tea
I need your decision
Come in any shape or form
Come like self-deceit
You’re most welcome, it’s your home
Yours is the best seat.
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