Fresh cut grass, old and rusty braziers,
a couple of empty beer bottles lying about the house;
there is laughter in these walls,
usually my favourite kind,
but it is a world of certain solitudes for those who differ.

Whitewashed walls, inspired paintings,
a labyrinth of classrooms where I long and struggle to be;
there is hope in these walls,
there is peace,
but it is a world of certain solitudes for those who differ.

© Blake Leitch February 25, 2017