by Aidan Chivers
As I awake in strange and foreign bed
And on my face French sunlight gently falls,
I look for my own room around my head
But find myself between uncertain walls.
My eyes, in earnest, dart around and seek
With puzzlement a trace of something known –
They chance upon some words and, eager, peek
At poems pinned last night against the stone.
Warm feelings and soft thoughts begin to form
From whispers which I knew myself before.
The minds of others meet and, humming, swarm –
They mix with mine as I approach the door:
So all day long, as I the country roam,
It’s not all new – but holds a glimpse of home.