I'll return to the palm
of my land, someday,
And you'll be home.
---
Wait for me, with birds flying south
And history rising like trees from its soils
I have left my roots tangled upon your balcony,
Their pains, their poems, their wars.
Wait, we still have before us endless,
endless roads.
**Written for Saffie's club battle. Prompt: Formed poem placed inside a free style poem.
