out of the between

A strange sense of limbo exists

in bus terminals, train stations, airports,

a waiting in the between places.

There belonging,

crooked bench seats,

rolled up sweaters and backpack pillows,

scuffed floors,

white noise announcements.

It's after the leaving.

It's before the coming back.

It's a constant longing to be somewhere else.

So when I close my eyes to flickering fluorescent,

I'm brought to hear seagulls

mixed with your laughter.

An inside joke, never ending.

And there, my friends eyes

the day the light cut through the forest leaves.

I see us racing down the street,

grabbing your favorite snack from the same old corner store.

Then eyes open still see limbo,

the uncertainity dwelling betwixt there and back again.

Of all the places I've been,

and the journeys in between,

whenever I close my eyes, I know

it's time.

Home I'm coming back to you.