Little planes etch tracers in the midnight sky,
Up from seatac, scattering
I hold onto to the limbs of fir trees,
Limbs I used to climb the water tower
Thousands of lights, street lamps,
Houses, stop lights,
Flickering in and out of consciousness
I'm home, more home than a bed ever was
Nice poem
Keep on writting mate:-)
Steemit needs more original content :-)
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