If these people are homesick, they don’t reveal it;
The faces around me suddenly become distant.
When longing falls like mad crashing waves,
I wish myself a thousand miles away
With those whom I know and by whom I’m known,
If these people are homesick, they don’t reveal it:
They don’t make eye contact with me;
They talk about everything but home,
When longing whelms me like mad crashing waves.
Unable to tolerate their brave laughing faces,
I excuse myself and leave the room;
If these people are homesick, they don’t reveal it.
I walk into the white-walled bunkroom,
Turn my face away from the others there,
When longing falls like mad crashing waves.
When they leave, I slip under the bed, unseen;
The dust mites keep quiet company;
If these people are homesick, they don’t reveal it
When longing falls like mad crashing waves.
Velella 