Eco di risa, merende in compagnia, tempo d’apprendere.

Cori di grida, giochi tra ragazzi, ricordi di compleanni passati.

Nostalgia canaglia, che ti aggrappi ai miei ricordi di bambina.

Di un posto che è stato casa, ma oramai non lo è più.

Musk of stale beer, cheap Half smoked cigarettes stink From my coat pockets Morning weed instead of coffee Walking the tressle with Leah, slapped In the face from the cold and our buzz

As I walk into my Great Grandmother and grandfather’s apartment, all those memories that are written on my heart go through my head. The smell, the times that she would let us draw on her windows, and the sewing machine going, just makes me smile.

I can still smell the boxes That hold colors so dear And feels the prickles Of the paint brushes near

Ways to express Clothes scattering in a mess Plastic beauty You can never feed moody

You could smell it cook And read picture books Make scribbled designs With squiggles and lines

It was always there Even when it was not You could see things in the air Who knew it would be more than a dot

These potholed roads all lead to Rome Past the aquaduct-gap between two shops And to the heart of the empire Where I used to do laundry.

This car park sits on top of a legion And I imagined the speed bumps were their graves And fast cars were a reminder Of the charging tribes.

My kitchen window had a view of the battle Where the end was beginning And somewhere a Caesar wept While I buttered my toast.

I was hungover when Rome was burning But it might have been a friend smoking In the garden And ashing on bronze coins.

Skinny jeans Water bottles full of vodka Playing frisbee in the park Buying weed off some random kid Cans and cans of Peace teas Safeways Chinese food Wearing Tom’s Drawing on each other Driving around, blasting music Boxes and boxes of hair dye in almost every shade Sitting around in the mall with hardly any money Skateboards and group sing- a-longs on the concrete Smoking in the parking lot Me coughing horribly When I hear those songs that’s what it reminds me of Not amazing times But they were alright I was surrounded by people Yet I was so miserable and lonely I guess that goes to show Teenage years are rough no matter what

The House. Across the world, But remembered Like it’s just down the street. Turn a corner near the school And it’ll be there, Waiting patiently For us to return home.

But really it’s hundreds Of thousands of miles away In another country My mother country Waiting patiently For us to return home.

The quaint kitchen, Two kids seated at the barstools As mama and Asher cooked Zoe always taste-testing And Caleb doing homework The kitchen sits, Dark and gray, Waiting for someone to turn on the light To cause a smell to waft through To be filled with life again.

The big backyard, Kids rushing around, Climbing trees Jumping high on a trampoline Setting up games The activity center The Sun shining bright, watching over us The same way it does now, In the same sky, Except it doesn’t feel the same at all.

That House. Sitting on that street, At the top of the hill Old and lonely Waiting for our family To come home.

But all I can do Is look up at the sky And think of how It’s the same sky above that house Knowing that’s the closest I’ll ever get to being home. Even if my siblings return to me Even if we live in the same house Even if one of us starts a family That’s the closest We will get To being home.

Sat on the grass with trees on top, Look straight ahead, Feel the wind takes you to your memory. Who are you, Where you come from, What are you doing, Why you are here… Realize the present is come from the past, What you do now is the cause of your future. Work hard so you can live happily!

A narrow lane with cobblestone, Where twilight whispers linger, The echoes of a childhood roam, Through time, they brush my fingers.

The old oak tree with branches wide, A castle in our dreams, Its ancient roots, a place to hide, Where laughter flows in streams.

The scent of rain on dusty streets, A fragrance sweet, profound, Where every step my memory greets, With whispers all around.

The cottage by the riverside, With shutters painted blue, Where warmth and love and dreams abide, And skies forever true.

The rusted swing that creaks at night, A song of days gone by, Where every star a guiding light, That twinkles in the sky.

The market square, the vendor’s call, The wares of yesteryear, A place where simple joys enthrall, And hearts could always cheer.

These fragments of a time now past, A tapestry so fine, In dreams, they come to me at last, And wrap this heart of mine.

For though I wander far and wide, My soul can always see, That narrow lane where memories bide, Forever home to me.

Leaving your door open Stealing your snacks “Borrowing” your clothes Slapping your back

Racing to the front Calling you names Saying I hate you Every stupid game

This is how I love you

I would kill for you sis’ But you can’t borrow my shirt My friend and nemesis After all you’re my sister

You warm my heart And boil my blood I hate you Cora But you’re also my love