The Lost Home

I lost my home,

A home that was not mine;

A sweet and lovely home

A home so bright

The September breeze brought me there,

From a far distant land;

It took time to fall in love

With the home even loved by the ants

The day was her friend and the night was her wine,

Which I spilled on her womb

In the blue winter shine;

And which gave birth to warmth and rhyme

Her tainted, distorted skin showed

She was not a maiden, on them

Lovers of the past lay their marks;

The jealous me roared, “She must be washed”

So the days passed me by

As I groomed her white,

She smiled and embraced me with love;

Her arms, perfumed and bright

But soon came the summer and I am away

Lone she was left behind,

Frantic for her face I came back running,

But in her arms a new lover I could find

I lost my home

A home that was never mine.