I pine for a place to clepe home,
Not sure if there is one
I look for home betwixt the pages of a book, betwixt poesy and in rain
They proffer me a transient home that soon dwindles
I restart my odyssey, the search for a place to clepe home.
I now look for it in the moon, in the moana and in the arms of my beloved
They too proffer me an ephemeral home, one which soon falls to pieces
I move back to the odyssey, confounded this time
I wonder if home is a phantom, a mirage in a dustbowl.
I pine again, for a place to clepe home,
Not sure if there is one.
©Karanika