A Letter Home

Barbed

To the home I was born
Where the trees grew tall
And the kookaburras laughed late
Lay the road that lead everywhere
And the road that lead nowhere
To the west, the bush
To the east, the brush
East I went
No longer am I lost

You were once a prison
Now, my sanctuary
Forgive me, for I will miss you.

Barbed
Choking

You will be but another page in my sketchbook.
I will be cleaning my studio in 20 years time, and I will happen upon you again.
Again, that memory will come alive.