When all but the energy to blink is drained,
we all catch a bus to our happy place.
There a man, to where his mum awaits
with a steamy food bowl and loving gaze.
Here a woman, to where her kids play
with her man who’s putting his sleep at bay.
There a child, to where his sister waits,
with pricked ears for the stories he’ll say.
Here a person, to where their love is awake
with a longing to wrap them in a long embrace.
And I, to where my pixie dust lay
in a sequence of zeroes and ones, from far away
Wondering why to my happy place, are no buses
teleporting right into my pixie’s heart that ache.