2017.11.28 Backpack


Home in Germany, my paradise.
In the garden once stood a friend’s plum,
My son’s cherry and my Christmas tree.

Black currants and raspberries, roses, yellow and red
Jasmine, lilac, and forget-me-nots.
Rosemary and Sage and Citronella.

And people I have walked with, hand in hand.
People I take to be close as family.
In days when I was young.

And now I am seventy-one.
They said I should go home, to my family.
For they were only my friends.

Go home?
Go to where my heart is?
Heart dear, are you still in my backpack?




Mines, all scattered around.
Sleeping, like volcanoes.
No one detonating.

No one demining.

Some home.
Thank God,
Not mine.


Easy Travel Dawei

Sam the Man tours

My Philippine Life

A foreigner shares his Philippine experiences

Floating Piano Blog

Creative people floating ideas about learning, music and technology.


A blog full of humorous and poignant observations.

Translations about social issues: China

Just another WordPress.com site

O at the Edges

Musings on poetry, language, perception, numbers, food, and anything else that slips through the cracks.

Glimpses From The Garden

Marlene A. Affeld - Observations, Thoughts, and Musings