I've forgotten the words to your song, the one you would sing me to sleep with, like lullabies of a yesteryear plucked from vinyeards from across the shore a shore, a land I may never see. They tell me I do not belong there, the people from your home. "I was not born there," they say but you were. And I was born from you So why may I not return to the home of my home? And so your melodies are of a different key, your paintings of other hues, And yet still I want to listen and to see all there is because they belong to you. Share with me your letters, your dances too, teach them I am not so different so I may be like so I may be with you.