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.