Unsure whether it’s where I started
or where I’m meant to end up;
if it’s warm during the winter,
or if it’s in my mother’s arms.
I am in the middle–
of the start and end,
my dreams and past,
his promises and her tears,
my two homes,
my doubts of each.
Soon I will be heading out,
for now I stay around this town
and hope and save and cry,
around the corner, the ride of my life.
as night grows deeper
I begin to cry,
the sky darkens and I am more alone,
with the hum of the refridgerator
and nothing more.