April comes down.
She wants to be alive.
Alive.
Why can't I just talk to God?
What would I say?
God, I miss home.
I miss it now.
I miss my house.
I miss my home.
I miss my grade six love.
I miss my health.
I miss my home.
I miss my grade six love.
I miss the way that my mom smelled.
I miss the way that she could cure any common cold you held.
I would watch movies with my Dad before I knew his secret heart to know the loves that he has had.
When I caught frogs in watered ponds.
I woke to sound and not to noise as my neighbours worshipped God.
I miss my house.
I miss my home.
I miss the heart that I had.