You love your little lane;
The hedgerow of your birth.
It’s all you’ve ever known.
It’s where you keep your hearth.
You’ve never thought of moving.
It hadn’t crossed your mind.
Why would you bother looking,
if you’ve nothing left to find?
Well, somehow the idea came up,
maybe from all the rain,
and now your mind’s not made up,
a bit tired of the same.
With your eyes now wide open,
you realize you’d ignored.
Your lane is an island
with an ocean to explore.
For #MayBookPrompts day 28 “The Ocean at The End of the Lane”