By Rachell Carbajal

Writing down in my daily log, I stare at the window at today’s fog

I began writing down, the thoughts of my hometown, I say

Here in the Bay the shore washes my troubles away

I love it here, where the spring and summer are always near

It’s truly beautiful, but I can’t help but feel a blue tear

I know I’ve lived my whole here, in the same place

But at times I wished the fragile snowflakes touched my cold face

To hear the train whistle everyday, no matter where I stay

To wear big, bulky sweaters wherever I go

I just know that one day this will not be my place anymore

As it has always been that cold place, my hometown.