The hills are not the same
where I wait out my banishment
birds sing strange songs
flowers painted the wrong hue
women dress in differnt styles
men talk in foreign rhythms
this is not home
and a question tears at me
the phases of the moon
the seasons of the year
mark the passing of my punishment
what was once strange and alien
is now familiar and comfortable
this is now home
yet the question still gnaws
he has stolen my homeland
but it has been replaced
my world is now around me
my old home is now 'there'
strange, unknown, different
almost forgotten
except the question
the date approaches
none know its meaning
pack my bag and travel the miles
walk the streets made foreign by time
ignore the stares of forgotten friends
find the house, pound on the door
when it opens
ask the lady
why
she did not follow