Coming Home

by Anita Lubesh

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From waterfalls to stepping stones, meandering
across history’s bones, I am halted by a sound,
the sound of mandolins.

Sinewy and tempered, the strings play their song,
accompanied by a chorus made up of flocking doves.
I stroll and become enamoured before succumbing
to temptation and falling in love with fate. Tumbling heathers
bow and lend to gentle footsteps, crooning whilst retracing
a long forgotten voice.

I rest a while in contemplation and let myself be trampled
by hordes of folk returning, who hear the strumming
soothes of a sound, a sound from deep within.

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10 Comments to “Coming Home”

  1. Such a lovely write, tranquil and beautiful.

  2. Excellent! The first line of your first sentence was simply mesmerising for me. I loved the varied states of water flow. I thought it illustrative of the turbulence of youth transitioning to a more mature life – Waterfall to stepping stones. Very nice!

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