Day becomes a simple word
And hours hard to keep
When you're waking in a different place from
Where you went to sleep
The world's a box you've opened
But it's strange to look inside
When your days are juddering journeys
Governed by the tide.
It's harder to imagine now
How your mattress feels
Your bags smell of the hotel sheets
Your breath of restaraunt meals
You're learning to appreciate what
You don't see day to day,
But when you find your old front door
It seems the other way.
Written for my sister who is traveling a lot at the moment. Actually, she'd currently in japan, having flown from New York (ps, we live in England) and i hardly get to see her at all in the year anyway because she lives in Denmark.
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