Concrete Longing

The city's hum, a steel and glass domain, A million faces, whispering my name, Yet none I know, no laughter warm and deep, Just echoing streets where lonely shadows creep. The neon glow, a false and brittle sun, Reflects in eyes where weary battles run. I search for solace in a crowded space, But find instead an emptiness, a trace Of gentle hills, where wildflowers used to bloom, Of whispered stories in my childhood room. The scent of pine, the robin's morning call, A distant dream beyond this concrete wall. My heart, a compass, spinning wild and free, Longs for the harbor and the open sea. For weathered hands and eyes that understand The silent language of my native land. Though miles may stretch, and oceans intervene, A thread of longing keeps the memory keen. And in the quiet when the day is done, I close my eyes, and I am going home. ©bfa031425 Rhyme (away from home)