Home is

Home was the pages of a good book
Curled up on a  couch
Sound off, the world disappearing
As I learned what kind of person I wanted to be

Home was your blue eyes and quick laugh
Touching your neck as you drove
Bright summer sun in a car and
Dancing in the living room

Home was the grey stones and twisting closes
Golden light breaking through clouds
Tea and scones on windy days
A city map that felt like it was engrained in my blood

Home is you
Walking alongside you
Texting you when I am almost in tears
Knowing you’ll make me smile
And help me breathe
Home is you
Sharing silly articles and jokes
Shouting book recommendations at each other
Bottles of wine and cheese
Falling over laughing
Home is you

It was never the address of my street
Or the country in my passport
Or even this spot on my couch

In this way, I have never left home
And home has never left me.


This entry was posted in love, personal, Poem, travel, writing and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Home is

  1. Pai says:

    yes, Ca…home is what makes you happy and gives you comfort..very soothing..

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