or maybe

Maybe it’s the daisy chains, the ones I would sit and make with Mum, the way they made me feel at home.

Maybe it’s the way the sun hits when I’m sitting at the end of the beach

Or maybe it’s the way the sand drops off to six feet deep.

Or maybe it’s the way time feels serial

Or maybe it’s the way you can see the big hills.

Maybe it’s the smell of the freshly cut grass.  

Or the way the ducks go quack quack quack in the park.

Or maybe it’s the smell of wet pine gum?

Maybe, just maybe it’s the way it snowed or the way you can hear the heavy rain on my little tin abode.

Or maybe I liked watching the waterfalls seep, on the side of the road the Red River runs deep.

They say home is where the heart is but my heart is not here

My heart is at the jetty the ocean, the beach, the place I learnt to drive, the place I feel most alive