I have no real home.
I carry my life on my back
and turtle-walk to the next morning.
I am the sunrise and the sunset.
I do not have residence in the day.
Or the night. I am a shadow.
Turn too quickly, I am gone.
I am spring flowers, summer heat,
autumn wind, winter snow.
You think I am forever.
I am only the blink of an eye,
an obsolete passport.
I will never return
to my mother’s womb.
published in Sonnets to Sing
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