Going Home

In the quiet morning skies, I rise,
The world below dissolves in my eyes.
Tired of a city, cold and grey,
A place once mine, yet never to stay.

The streets I knew, the faces once bright,
Now linger as ghosts in the morning light.
The noise, the rush, the weight of time,
No solace left in paths once mine.

But now I soar, the clouds my guide,
Drifting where my heart may hide.
The city fades, its echoes slight,
A past untethered, lost in flight.

A real home waits where peace is near,
Far from the days I once held dear.
The sky is vast, the road is long,
Yet soon I’ll rest—where I belong.