Orange juice tastes like home, summer leaves swaying in a ocean breeze.

Ocean liners graze a blushing moon. Winter storms brush sun glazed shores.

Moonlight graces gas light encampments, smoke wafting against fog ridden lake fronts.

Crickets croak for a strung song stroked amongst red oak, flowing against a mid-day tide.

Do you know what a sliver springs feels like in the dead of night?
Sobering up those driven to the darkest wells hidden among clear blue swells.

Do you know how bright stars shine amid drunken midnight dives. Burning kaleidoscopes fall through blue dyed skies, streaking out behind fog lined surmises.

Home is green lizards scuttling a crossed sun brunt grass.
Home is fireflies dancing across summer lined skies.
Home is a cricket strung orchestra, warbling away a starlite lullaby.

Home
    Is........

© SaraM