There’s a place I own.
I haven’t bought it, nor stolen.
It was just… there. And I took it.
I can’t really describe it, because
everytime I go there, it changes.
Today there’s a huge lake, with ducks,
and swans, and darters, and cormorants,
and egrets, and moorhen. Oh, and turtles.
Yesterday, there was a couch and a balcony.
Today, clear skies, oh so hot, which
I kind of appreciate, since it calls the skin
to come out and play.
I’m not alone in my place, but I am on my own.
Because all the eyes I see, don’t see me.
Or not really; I’m just a shape on a bench.
I’m not really here, anyway. I’m just
trying not to be anywhere else.
But I came here today to harvest some calm.
Seems like a scarce commodity elsewhere.
My place has a healthy stock today.
I seek to share it with the people I love,
go beyond the cliché of “everything will be ok”.
I want them to be ok.
In the meantime, I send some love on the express lane,
some hope in express mail,
Tomorrow my place will change again.
But always mine to go to.
I find comfort in that.