Home

About dusk,
Sun's just round the bend.
Ready to go back home, or lose its way and dive into the sea.
Beyond it fly herds of birds,
Rows of feather, queuing together,
Tracing back steps to the wilderness
The branches of whose tree's,
Are adorned by their nests.

Back in the nests after day ends
To come back home and fall asleep
Content, aloft in their nests

Tracing back my flight
Land in reality
Amidst my own concrete jungle
I am the monarch of all i survey
With hands flung up in air, in despair.

No home, no nest to go back to
No flock to give me company
Here, amidst menacing rows of brick and mortar
Where should i return?
What place shall I call,
My home?