Tribute to Robert Burns

My heart’s in the sand

of warm and welcoming land.

If this is Neverland, then I am Pan

with a bucket of beer in hand.


I sit where the palm trees grow

and where the sounds of cities are low.

I bathe in the rays and wash in the shallow

where bikinis lay and the fishes follow.


My heart misses the sand

because it’s in dirt and life is not grand.

I left the buildings for vacant land

and there’s no concert, only a local band.


I look at my past and makes me woe

because I miss those sands so

and how I long to feel its touch with my toe.

When will I see the sands gain, I do not know.


I like to think that those sands miss my heart

and feels the same pain of being apart.

Apart from the independent music and art.

I traded the smell of ocean breeze for a musty mart.


The sands have always been a show

with the nights that give off a unique glow.

My heart sinks in this dirt and buried below

because it’s littered with worms and I want to go.


The dirt is poison and it’s up to my eyes.

A life for me here is impossible even if I try

because I’m not that kind of person who can lie.

My heart’s in the sand, where I wish to die.


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