I come from my country

I come from my country
Where Thursday frost sparkles
Beneath my feet
Some wear their national identity
Like a cloak, but mine
Is more like a well-worn cardigan
Comfortable and familiar
Somewhere in the bottom of my closet
I wear it for old time’s sake
But most of the time it is just there
In the back of my memory
A little old fashioned
A bit out of date
Threadbare and worn
Like the colours of yesterday
Even though I have never left these shores
It is part of me, like my country
Like the Thursday frost
Sparkling beneath my feet.


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