Home.
Her home defines her.
She longs for it.
Her home gives her belonging.
Shown to others, her home unveils pieces of her heart.
Hidden deep inside.
Waiting to found and cherished.
Shown to others, her home unveils pieces of her heart.
Hidden deep inside.
Waiting to found and cherished.
Appreciated by so few.
The countryside is like a painting.
Though it doesn't fade on parchment as though it had been brushed there.
Forever locked in the Artist's inspiration.
Untouched by human development.
The bush belongs to her.
Comfortingly quiet.
And peacefully rural.
The rains come.
Green blades shoot up through the dampened earth.
The misty clouds envelope the rolling hills in their cold embrace.
Land covered in forests and farms.
Of pine.
Of eucalyptus.
Of corn.
Of numbu.
Dried grass covers the brick huts.
Walls black from smoky fires.
Mud floors swept daily.
Little cherubs.
Dirty clothes and snotty noses.
Waving.
Endless land.
Uninhabited.
Pure.
Natural.
Dirt roads.
Raging rivers.
Green trees.
Radiant sunsets.
Her home is etched into her heart.
The one place of belonging.
The one place of completeness.
Home.
And peacefully rural.
The rains come.
Green blades shoot up through the dampened earth.
The misty clouds envelope the rolling hills in their cold embrace.
Land covered in forests and farms.
Of pine.
Of eucalyptus.
Of corn.
Of numbu.
Dried grass covers the brick huts.
Walls black from smoky fires.
Mud floors swept daily.
Little cherubs.
Dirty clothes and snotty noses.
Waving.
Endless land.
Uninhabited.
Pure.
Natural.
Dirt roads.
Raging rivers.
Green trees.
Radiant sunsets.
Her home is etched into her heart.
The one place of belonging.
The one place of completeness.
Home.
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