Oh darling take us back to the summer days
where breezes play in our hair
Where we'd stuff our mouths with crumbly cookies
and danced and sang and laughed and cried without a care in the world
I tell you it is indeed a tremendously terrible tragedy
to be in a place where you thought you had solace
but yet be unable to call it a home.
Night darkness in sight and I feel my lips
shape themselves into a deep parentheses.
I am happy, I think.
I look forward to the future with a mixed sense of trepidation and anticipation.
I know not of what is yet to occur, and yet I bask in the uncertainty of it.
I have dreams and things I want to do and feel and experience
and I thank God that I have parents who are understanding.
It took awhile and a fair bit of observation to understand
that I am a drifter-
mainly in social conventions, and perhaps-
in future occupations as well.
I have no fixed home and yet am able to find
what i need in areas I wander and seek.
What will become of me?
Here I am plotting my romanticized future in my head
and yet I could be dead tomorrow.
Oh! The beauty in uncertainty.