Poetry of Alice Calbri

Where I Wish I Were

Writing about where I am from 
It was fun, a lot of details are still
Left to be unsaid.
Or left to be said. How about here?
What if I told you here?
But here instead, I'd like to mention
Something a little different...

What is a wish? Is it longing?
Or simply a state of simply wanting
in that moment in time?
Is that wish's purpose to fade?
Or to keep being made until it comes to be?
What is a wish's fate if it comes 
to one decision or the other?

If a wish is what is destined
to be written on this page,
I suppose I'll have no other choice
but to write it, though I'm low on time. 

My simple wish would be this:
Of my origins I belong, and to such
I would soon like to return.
To the babbling creek that babbles along 
for hours as it runs over my feet,
as this is where they belong. 

My hair belonging to the breeze that fondly plays
with it, flicking it over my shoulders.
My hands are owed to the trees I lean against
when I am weak, and my tongue to the ripe apples
that they bear so graciously.

My eyes would belong to the night,
as I lay awake and gaze at the stars 
that embroidered my soul.
The light of the moon has claimed my face
as it lights it just perfectly when
I so excitedly return to it to tell it my stories.

The stories themselves I owe to them as a whole, 
as I came from them, therefore to them 
I must always return. 
The fondness it holds within me will never fade
or dwindle, for the life it had made for me
was nothing less than perfect
when I am with it.