Home (To You)


My glass was foggy,

And from my window, a still

Of a city pausing for breath

From a window sill.


I love days like these.

Days that linger on the skin

And your hair.

Umbrellas waltz and curtsy to one another

As their shadowy legs speed home, and away.

Neon lights bleed onto the roads

And cars splash through the colourful viscera.

The city is dead, but covered in confetti.

The train passes through every ten minutes

Bringing more to mourn,

Or perhaps some come to dance.

I rush to see it depart and return

And I imagine the train as a tormented lover:


Yet determined.

Where should I be?


No road could ever take me there

Because they would lead me anywhere

But where I want to be.

When the city is this cold

I think of how birds flock

To brighter skies –

They say they simply just know the way.

So I toast the track

I rise from my perch,

And I fly home.





Megan Hopkin
Illustration Nick Victor

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