Five senses;
Comfort found in each one,
Like the oddly soothing smell of rotting apples decaying out back home in autumn
Or the salty scent of ocean tides that remind me of my roots.
Briny on the tongue when it sprays and spatters,
Yet refreshing to the touch,
Prompting goosebumps to arise,
And chills to crawl up spine.
Warmth truly returning when I’m soon where I long to be;
In the chaos, clutter
And madness of home.
Joyous laughter and wild barking greeting me,
Three distinct voices easing any doubt;
Familiar sounds that settle every anxiety,
And bring a fellow feeling about.
Little fingers reaching and touching for my attention,
Our time together seemingly never enough,
But it provides that fuzzy fondness we all so crave and seek,
The reassurance of home always doing it for me.
About the Creator
J.Bee
A writer in the midst of finding her own style and groove.
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