of wanting to go home

a thousand leaves, more than a thousand in fact
green on brown on green on brown, waving,
unanimously swing in open defiance
of my frustration with this godforsaken land

and perhaps for the first time in years
i feel like a child bruiseless,
in awe, with a tinge of melancholic wonder
as i walk when the sweaty sweltering sun
has been swapped for clouds magnificent - and the heat
the heat the doesn't pierce my skin anymore

is this the liberation of living for oneself
when all ties have been severed/freed(om)?
or the concentration of an inner child
who now sees the world for the first time
broken proustian habit

a thousand yellow daisies traded for a thousand yellow leaves
and till this day, when i remember the gentler years
of a sweet summer child, i think to myself - deciduous?