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Miasma
by
Ohmme
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A month has gone longing for A house that was a home With aching teeth of coral reef To swallow up the whole A beach of amber glinting past A shiny glimpse of soul With graying hair from temples vast And never yes or no Oh no, oh no Oh no, oh no They pick and pick to make us sick A microscopic toad A mind miasma sticking quick A bit too fast to hold it off Before the fog has settled in I focus on the cold This day of beating wind Reminded me of home Of home, of home Of home, of home Of home, of home Of home, of home Of home, of home Of home, of home
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