The green mountains reach vast and far.
The clouds above them
dark and grey.
But I hardly ever see it rain.
The smell of pollution guarantees
I am where I am.
To most a sign of environmental destruction,
or simply just a nuisance in the air.
To me a sign of comfort.
We laugh and sing songs.
The same song over and over again.
But the song doesn’t matter.
I run with the others.
Together we are children again,
together we are back home.