Between two worlds

The whole other side of me
that could’ve been. The other life
I would’ve lived.

The lanes, the friendly villages, the yellow brick walls
soft to touch
hugging my arms around the land, the sticky scratchy earth
cloud busting
across the sky, the spires scatter the view, peeking out and up
churches live like neighbours, the trees familiar shadows
marsh wound wort, scented like bubblegum
pubs: bow your head as you enter, their stories sunk into their wood.

I chose a bigger world
of dreaming, zooming, shining, constant sound, always changing
yet I miss this life, quieter, smaller, kinder, the one that stays the same.

Maybe I am right where I should be?
Between two worlds. Always two halves.

Marsh Wound Wort

Marsh Wound Wort