12 Apr 2015

New England

For some reason I have, in my mind
Lived there for so many years now

Amongst all the postcard clichés
And mirror image fields
Birds and rivers
Small churches within towns
Others would only ever
Drive through

But to write it down
To record this second life
That would expose the falsehood
Remove the curtain to show me
Sitting at this screen
Looking out onto the growing garden of my
Real home
The blue sky so bright
Flat and unwelcoming
Keeping my heart indoors

The same New England sun
Shining on the white painted houses
Across the street here

Not too different
Maybe the details only
The birds
The sorrow of the people

And no one makes postcards of
Where I actually