Mirror

25/10/18

Something about the mountains makes me feel at home,
and it is more than having crags to conquer and roam.
The rocky scrambles are irregular, like a young child's scar.
Pristine white sands of the desert run near and far.
Here is but an entry to the majesty the Fish River Canyon holds,
yet a place of such grand size can be awfully lonely & cold.
From my front door lays a peak-filled landscape most profound,
behind in the full toothy smile and welcome from the community around.
A man sees me running, I stop, and he asks "have all been kind?"
Travel another 23 years and thousands of miles, I will never find
the feeling of home I've felt after just seven short days.
I haven't talked with all, or even many, but love is shown many ways.
Although I have no bathroom mirror, the mountains' reflection matters most.
Their beauty during twilight reflects the warmth from the town that is my host.
Outside my flat, one may see little but iron and concrete,
but with help from the mountains, I see my presidential suite.