I grew up in Rosamond.
Mountain peaks from who knows where
cross my mind with distinct flair
miss the hills in Mojave and the desert air
smog has infiltrated the once clean air
the Santa Ana winds
moan in despair
sand and pebbles flung without care
Sweet Alfalfa with hint of sage
in my memory rage
regrets of forsaking the desert for city strife
how different it could have been on this journey called life
Image via Wikipedia
I too have foresaken my home of cold snow for one of an endless summer and even though the drastic change, I am not homesick for a desert range.
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