April comes down. She wants to be alive. Alive. Why can't I just talk to God? What would I say? God, I miss home. I miss it now. I miss my house. I miss my home. I miss my grade six love. I miss my health. I miss my home. I miss my grade six love. I miss the way that my mom smelled. I miss the way that she could cure any common cold you held. I would watch movies with my Dad before I knew his secret heart to know the loves that he has had. When I caught frogs in watered ponds. I woke to sound and not to noise as my neighbours worshipped God. I miss my house. I miss my home. I miss the heart that I had.