it is ten o' clock.
my eyes blink hard with haze of hours.
my back aches tight from arms of children.
my mouth tastes old of decaf coffee.
my neck creaks stiff with bend of concentration.
my cheeks flush red with stare of sun,
with stare of heart-eyes.
they've been here,
asking and scrunching faces
and waiting and scrunching hearts
and i've been
and pleading heart-sick
for the Answer.
and i blush
and i believe
and i need to go to bed,
and i, i...
i'm not Home yet.