Laetitzia Campbell

His way home becomes a metaphor for going back to bitter-sweet moments. Time has passed and these moments are no longer just memories, they are in fact what “home” has become.

On your way home, 

What will you find? 

An old tree to shade your troubles, 

That woman, 

Who made your life so humble, 

The orange sun sinking, 

A memory of your peaceful self, enjoying, thinking, reading, breathing. 

Just Breathing. 

Oh sweet painful memory to go back to: 

You, a book, the shade. 

Nothing shades you now, 

Not the tree, 

Nor yourself. 

On your way home, you found nothing, 

But regret, 

Love, 

And pain.