In every reality,
I stop at a street sign
Take at least a 15-minute break
Then decide to keep on going straight.
It does not matter which road I take.
They all lead to away.

For as long as I’ve known
I have been tasked with finding a home.

One morning, 
after making a breakfast large enough to fill my tummy
Ironing me a set of warm clothes
That would take care of me in every season to come
Mother walked me down to the street corner
Put a bag on my back
A kiss on my forehead
And told me it was time to go
That I had to do this on my own.
Not to be scared
“Every adventure awaits you out there”

At first,
I thought it would be easy to find a home
I remembered the old movies and 
How as long as you stuck your thumb out
Someone would be there to help
But days pass, and I’m overcome with thirst
Tears on the tips of my frustration, ready to burst
I decide to stop at a street sign
Take my time
Keep my emotions inline
I take a deep breath.
Left or right?
It doesn’t matter.
No one ever taught me how to read signs. 
I have nowhere else to go
Moving forward is all I know, 

Time passes.
The seasons roll over.
And spring brings meadows of four-leaf clovers. 
I see a passerby sitting in the grasses
I consider moving forward on my path,
As it is all I know
But this boy’s head falls into his hands-
the way,  the autumn leaves will go
And I’m not sure the souls,
Left behind in this no man’s land will forgive me-
If I do not hear out their demands. 

I approach slow-
The weight of adventure, heavy, in my stroll
I should turn back-
No one ever taught me how to read signs
How will I know which way is forward
If I come off the path
Find myself intertwined with your track?

But, I remember mother told me I had to do this on my own
And lonely it has been
My thumb stuck out
Days pass by, months even
Until I see a passerby
And I’m not sure the soul inside me will forgive me
If I know what its like to be alone
But I let your head fall, like in autumn,
When the leaves go.

Time passes,
The seasons roll over
And winter brings a chill-
Where someone more than a stranger used to be
Where they read a street sign, marked home
And decided to leave despite my pleas
Did not stay to hear me say
“It’s ok. Don’t worry.
No man’s land is kind to souls that have no demands.”

If I could flip time back over
I would still choose to come closer 
If you could do it all over
You would have never seen that field of clovers

In every reality,
No one has ever taught me how to read signs.
It doesn’t matter which road I take
Every path, and stroll, and intertwine
Leads me away. 
Away from home
Away from heads that rise, like in spring,
When the leaves grow.

I am an adventure 
Here for the season
Abadoned when reason,
makes the best-
of those who can read signs, 
Without an ounce of distress.

I have the allure of an unmarked path
Strangers’ heads fall into my lap
Become more than strangers.
Shiver when our souls intertwine
Shrink back.
My thumb sticks out. 
The movies say,
“Someone will come to help.”
Before the seasons roll over
And you have decided, 
That heads which fall like leaves in autumn
Have souls too heavy to make demands.
Are better off left an unmarked path. 
You rise like a poppy in the spring. 

Time passes.
By this I mean, 
I take a 15-minute break. 
Keep on going straight. 
But first,
I leave the idea of home
Of someday not being alone
In the field of clovers.
Ready to be turned over.
I iron it a warm set of clothes.
Leave it the bag on my back.
Tell it not to be scared.
“A passerby will read the signs,
And soon be here.”