Not Far From Home

It tastes like childhood…

It is some kind of cake
Bringing you back
Always
Inevitably
To Place Saint George’s carrousel
a Saturday afternoon
Since
In the end
Any wooded horse
Travels me home
To my beloved country
To Occitanie

It looks like clairvoyance

It is some kind of reminder
Of first years
Not early age’s but
More demanding
Adulthood’s It is some kind of reminder
Then
Lingeringly striking you
what growing old means
But
In the end
Any memory does the work
To recall home
In my inherited land
In Occitanie

Bright and Shinny
Unperfect and Biased
Excepted and Surprising
Carcassonne, 03/16/2021