I thirst for rushing wind and hazy skylines
there’s an addictive brilliance in the stars
of a foreign sky.
I lose everything to follow their shine,
drunk on happy lonesomeness,
missing Christmas in exchange for diamond
but you are the Queen of Hearts.
not even open fields can cloud my memories
of rainy apartment days,
starlings and tree parks and green streams,
crying on the deck in your lap,
in the car with Chips Ahoy and Van Morrison tapes,
to the day you told me I was too old for
books before bed.
our orange and apricot trees and your jams and
lemon pie, blueberry birthday pie and
banana milkshakes for my wisdom teeth.
tv nights with popcorn and christmas mornings
Julys of fireworks and neighbors
and Starbucks on mondays
where we could complain, and laugh, and be similar.
maybe nostalgia isn’t a reason to return,
and I have been hardened, yet weakened,
by my liberty.
but you are the question and answer
etched into my mind,
like any daughter’s,
so wait at the gate for me,
I’ll be home soon.