The Liverpool I know

I never felt I belonged

An observer

A watcher

Drinking in everything that came along

Revisiting memories so very clear

My city heart beats like I’m still here

Streets never changing

People stay the same

Time hasn’t dulled the reason for their fame,

I know I’m among them when I hear their cheerful roar

They clatter as they run by, with laughter ...

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I do not think

There is such 

a thing as

A place,

A person,

A scent,

A sound

A touch,

A taste,

that I could link 

To what the faceless 

masses call home.

I do not think,

There is a version of me that exists,

Where home is something I have,

And not something I miss.

The past,

The present,

The future,

All in which 

I do not fit.

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