This house where the wind blows

House where the wind blows

This house where the wind blows:
I like it and I don’t;
near the dried river,
wet only in the rains
that seep underground and make the walls mold.

My head spins
for longing,
for wishing it had a sunny mountaintop
where only breezes blow.

4 thoughts on “This house where the wind blows

  1. Pingback: Nomadic Life? Maybe In A Different Age | Black and White Heart

  2. Pingback: Listening to the little voices in my head: ‘there’s no place like home…’ | 3rdculturechildren

  3. Pingback: Love is home | Life is great

  4. Pingback: Daily Prompt: There’s No Place Like Home | flow of my soul

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