Jack Henderson: Home

Welcome, or welcome back depending.

Seems like a while ago now I turned and headed out towards what looked like greener grass. The grass was greener, but there wasn’t much else there to keep me. Trouble is, when I turned round to go home the landscape behind me had changed unrecognisably. Ever since then I’ve been trying to find my way back. Despite some vaguely familiar landmarks I don’t seem any closer yet, but I have met some pretty good souls along the way looking for their own way home. Some of those people turned out to be songs and some of them were poems. Others were just ephemeral dancers that shimmered in my own night sky and left the deepest marks.