Triolet: Coming Home

I see my home but once a year
And all my family waiting there.
Through driving rain or blue sky clear,
I see my home but once a year;
Pavilions by the score appear
Where once the empty ground was bare.
I see my home but once a year
And all my family waiting there.

Written in a fit of pre-Pennsic nostalgia.

Updated: July 8, 2013 — 10:28 pm