My mother was hurt when I told her
"I do not miss you
I never did."
Makes me feel
Sometimes, that she was lying, she
Missed me too, a
Little. But this
Sophomore departure, this
Second excursion, when
I should feel less,
I look out a window, sleepless by past-dawn
And think of clouds and coffee (and
Sometimes, a boy), confused a
Little, not-quite-sad, but then what
Was this--

And I realized
This is homesickness
Waffles on rainy mornings,
Pianos and corn-on-the-cob,
The nearly-wanting-to-cry, holding-it-back-not-really

(What was there to hold back ever?)

So instead you feel the almost-ache,
A dim misty sky that reminds me of
Three homes
Childhood, family
And love, but the last seems so

Sometimes I want to cry when there are no tears for
A home I think I miss, thought I didn't.