Home

I long for a simpler time
A time when that very thing
Didn't seem so fleeting
When the sun seemed to stay a little longer

I long for the smell
Of animals and plants
Something more than my scented oils
That add a false sense of depth

I long for the days
Spent outside
Not in man-made attempts at outside
But really outside

I long for the scenes
That forced one to stop
And wonder at a God
That could create such magnificence

I long for the nights
When sleep was a necessity earned
By the fatigue of the body
Instead of a burden brought on by the setting sun

I long for a place
Where dirt and plant
Vastly outweigh
Asphalt and concrete

I long to be
Where I can sit out
Over lands of yellow grain and green grass
And breathe the sweet air of home

Cerra Hawkins