I feel close to you today.

Maybe it's the humidity.

I feel like I belong to you.

Maybe it's not true,

But I like the way it feels.

My hair's a mess from wind and rain and age.

I'm an on-looker at an on-coming train,

And if I decide to board the platform here,

I'll go away to who knows where.

But I'll show up there

With rumpled dress and tangled hair,

Just like the day I arrived at the nursery,

And my father said he saw me

And wondered what I was.

And I've been born again 

And again and again,

And I'm always the same,

Just a mousy, tousled bit

Of face and mane,

Looking for a home.

-jenn