The caramel roofs on white stone houses,
walks with nowhere to be,
the town that comes alive with joy,
good things take time to arrive
Joy is tumbling along
with the ones you love
rowing down the river
eyes closed in the sun
The ones who worship the sun, moon and stars,
name their children after trees,
who’ve been conquered and been conquerors,
who sang their way to freedom.
Saying goodbye is the worst part of traveling
Sometimes we need to get away
Look at different things
To come back to ourselves.
Spent a lovely weekend reconnecting with my cultural roots, dancing folk dances all night, speaking my native language (ha lies … More
and everything I once looked at with awe
will become common and ordinary.
Until I return to my home town
and everything looks smaller
and far more beautiful.