Far from home

Being in a place far from home

A place I did know I could call my own

Staring up at the ceiling

Searching for familiar feelings

Looking across bridges, old and new

Then up at the sky, the very same blue

The wind blows, coming from miles away

The flowers bloom, symbolizing the start of May

I fall into my own thoughts, dark and alone,

When a smell all too familiar hits my nose,

Turning to see if this is deceit,

But no, with my very own eyes I see,

They blew against the spring wind,

The white petals puffed at every whim

They were placed on the simply flower shop,

As the flower seller sat back down with a plop!

Being in a place far from home,

A place I did not know I could call my own,

The jasmine flowers, a flower of my culture and home

A reminder of who I am, and that I am not alone

- Kamya Pradeep