Ode 15.21

The feeling of grass on bare feet, the feeling of love. Like my grandmother telling me, where I belong. To correct and guide. 

The bread smells foreign but also like home.

When will this stop?

The rich earth that is soaked and holding on to many, many secrets help me from the ground up.   

It could not have been 15 years. It can’t have been. I don’t think so. I refuse to believe it. 

All of these feelings, after first light but before the sun’s mighty rise. 

All of these feelings, as the city woke up to the sounds of thousands, hundreds of thousands, starting another day. Just like they used to do 15 years ago, and 21 years before that. 

Just like they will do, until the mighty sun rises no more.