From Beverley to Bloomsbury

How are you to know that I come from the Avenues

if you can’t hear it in my voice?

Photographed once in a Leeds United shirt

my mum maintains she didn’t buy.

Is that really where I call home?

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Our flat was never meant to be forever

It’s messy and there’s no good chairs

I’d put it on a letterhead if I could

– a good address, I’m aware –

Is this really where I call home?

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A dream can sit somewhere between the two:

I don’t care where we settle down

Home isn’t where you come from, it’s made by you

deciding where to lay your head

It’s a lifetime’s quest to saite it.

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This short poem was written as part of the ‘Alphabet Superset‘ programme: it is quick work and is unedited.