Fresh Sheets
A poem dedicated to my home, about home.
The way they smelled
Not like linen
But just like you
Just like home
When you did the sheets
Or when you did my hair
And used the spray
My coils all matted
Only to be tamed
Just by you
The smell of grease on the stove
The fish beginning to fry
And you saying
Don’t touch
Even though you knew
I was going to try
Like how you used to clean
The house till perfection
You never ceased to find a speck of dirt
When I argued it was clean
The way it still feels like home
With all the same sounds
Even though you’ve already
Gone home without me.
About the Creator
Kayla Jefferson
I am a 23 year old writer based in Houston, TX. I write short, creative fiction, true crime analysis, and poetry. I hope you find something you like here in my world. Tips are not expected, but appreciated!
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