A sweet serenade.
Clamouring syllables aching to be heard,
but the corks in our ears prevent it.
A composition of earth, melody of the sky,
each feathered note clashing together in glorious discord.
Home is not a thousand sounds of chaotic harmony.
Warmth is found in the icy water and in the
breezes that shriek softly as they slice our skin.
Deeper and deeper we crawl, away from it all,
away from the beauty of the comforting but uncaring topsoil.
She looks disappointed, but all we can see
are the stones over our eyes,
blinding us to the harsh nature
of the runaway.