Come every May and June awaits
somewhere in another place
the weird longing for "home"
of a special kind - a dome
childhood and light nights
surprising me with its might
I feel a need to fly away
from a heart's desire
to a yearning stray
somewhere in my quagmire
there is a viking's yearn
that somehow is biological
I must fly a swallow's turn
to quell the thirst's focal.
A medieval's daughter fires
the midsummer's dances
and her flight sires
the dreams she entrenches.
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