Homesick

Homesickness

With a cream sauce of nostalgia

On a bed of what if

Whispers to me a past

That never belonged to me

Because when the clock strikes after work o’clock

There is only the path home that opens up

And no stopovers with friends or spontaneity

Or coffee or a shared evening meal

A filter over life in the previous city

Romantic music in the background

And birds singing,

A laugh track to accompany it all

A new start

Into which I immediately dive deep

But now time suddenly stands still

And strolls by

Hesitating

Pondering aloud

Is this how it will always be from now on

And just for a moment, I’m very small.