Ficly

Home Again

The word lingers on the tip
of my tongue.
It leaves the sweetest taste in my mouth:
the fresh mountain air, the delicious autumn
that mixes crunched leaves and wet earth.
I flew over my old and troubled paths,
only to find them renewed and refreshed.
My friends greeted me with welcoming arms
and genuine smiles.
And for a moment,
nothing had changed,
and I embraced them.

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