Nothing's changed

I'm still here,

the days melting into nights

the stars still shining

in the Heavens.

My pen was dry

but yesterday

the weather was so soft

and warm I picked it up again.

The longing for travel

( and the lack of freedom to do it )

confuses me.

I always need that sense of home,

of security

but my feet and heart get itchy for something new,

somewhere were I can leave a glass

with my lipstick stain on it,

just to say;

once,

I was here.