The View From Here

I hear them screaming.  I see their fear filled faces
and wonder what has frightened them. 

Strangers who seem to know me. Questions I have no answers for. 
The surroundings so unfamiliar. 

I must go home. 
They laugh and tell stories about people I do not know. 
I smile—it seems to make them happy. 

I have a glimpse of another time, another place. No, it’s gone. 
They call me Mom—I do not correct them. 

I smile, we embrace, they wave.  
It seems to make them happy. 

But, I must go home.

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