So I picked my life and followed him
in the middle of November
In that suitcase held my dreams,
hopes and all I can remember
Not once did I look back at the life
I had created
Not once did I question my decision
that they all debated
If only they could see the crack in
his soul that needed me, I thought
Or the emptiness and vacuum that
engulfed him, of sort
Or the plans I made to repair the
broken mold with my hand
Or the hope he has to build our home
in a foreign land
Lost in a fairytale trance that
stifled my worries, we set sail
Determined to reach the promise land
he had described, without fail
So engrossed with steadying the
troubled waters and turbulent winds
That I failed to the see the frog
that could not turn into a prince
Too far in the journey to turn back,
too late to pray
Too weak from holding the reins, too
broken to stay
In the distance, I catch a glimpse of
the promise land drawing near
My heart holds no anticipation, for I
know, I won’t be there
I won’t be there when the fireplace
is lit and the house warms
I won’t be there when dinner table is
set and the ambience transforms
For even if he has built a mansion, a
castle or a dome
Of one thing I'm sure. Two strangers
cannot make a home.
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