Home: Tankas

Trees–they always change
As do mountains far away
But in every move
I stay close to being same
Like the earth travelling time.

When will the rain come?
When will snow sweep through my door?
The skies hot and cold
Are still one in their weeping
Like us today travelling.

It is dust I breathe
Not the love songs of the trees
No, it brings no change
When I am living in closed doors
Or in your heart where I’m leaving.

This the life I choose
In shifting lands and places
This the body I hold
In memories where I roam
I am what you call my home.

For this prompt.


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