A street light
together with a roving heart
might be a home enough
for he who builds sky as roof
chisels stars as vents
He leaves the vents open at nights
to let some human breaths escape
from their heavy and burning masks
Breezes from above the roof
want to cool and soften the masks
but, blocked by the so called 'room'
like an abandoned envelope
failed to convey any love
suspended outside the room
for a long long time
till a roving heart
take them home
Nice poem, Anne. Home is the best place to go. Thank you for the topic Earth and Home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A wonderful piece, forcing the reader to reconsider the concept of home from different perspectives. LOVE the stars as vents and the gently twisting ending.
Thank you, your comments are the vents for me, fresh airs from heaven.