For so long I’ve claimed
That it’s where I was born and raised,
But only recently did I realize
That’s a lie.
Well, not a lie really,
A half truth.
I was born there,
But raised almost everywhere else.
Some cities had “Miami” in the name,
But none could truly be called
Yet, somehow I still feel that
Miami is home.
No matter where I go,
I will never have left.
I have yet to see the world,
Yet I’m sure there’s nowhere else like it.
Miami is like my favorite book
That I’ve never opened.
Written in its history and people is
A beautiful story
That I’ve never fully experienced.
It was a birthday gift from years ago,
But to this day I’ve only read the jacket.
From the cover alone,
I’ve fallen in love with the novel.
I long to crack it open
And lose myself in its pages.