Back in Pokhara
Where the blue lake
Is a foundation for green hills
Which are the first floor
Of a building
Grey back at the bottom,
It's God's wall
The white snow line
Is getting lower
Going back up there
Amongst the rocks and green rivers
To walk through clouds, freezing
And emerge
On Thanksgiving Day, no less
Among the top floors
Above the lake and the trees
In the snow
In the sky
Shout to my family
(I miss my wife, my parents,my friends)
That I will return soon.
It hurts to look at them
From the bottom.
I miss you too! Thanksgiving isn't the same without you, nor is the rest of my life.
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