Rustling green above,
Crackling brown below,
Crunching whispy nettles,
Green falling to the earth.
The world breathes in and out as
Trees exhale, sending papery brown and yellow
Flying in the sky.
Sleek vehicles settling into
Their nests to lie in wait
For a building full of daughters.
A sense of belonging rests in everything,
Built into the fibers of life.
The already yellowing foliage
Creates a deep pang within my chest.
And I'm wishing to be home again, the place
Where I belong, where winter never comes.
Its icy reaches will never touch this
Land of magic.
The place I never wish to leave. Everyone says
How they love their "Old Kentucky Home,"
But I'm ready for the ever-living yellow rose.
Where there's more than
Just a house.
That special place that I call
Home.
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