Home?

Home

What is it like?

A blank grasp at the idea

Dreaming

Hoping

Wishing

Is it a warm, joyful place?

Built by weathered hands of love and old

Hands that dance in the wind amidst the stories they tell

Framed through polaroids and vintage frames

Somewhere secluded from the race of time

An unshaken oasis concealed amongst the withered nettles

The rosebud adorned by the veil of thorns

Those four letters rollick on my fingertips

For is this through spite?

They know no matter how outstretched I remain

My reach continues to fall short


Why do I resent myself for not knowing?

A prisoner to my perspective

Am I not?

And yet from dusk through dawn

I dream

Hope

Wish

That one day, I’ll have what you have

I dream to break away from these shackles

To be fattened by love

Sweetened by the air

Of not a house,

But of a home

Hoping that those years are kind

For I’ll no longer have to look behind

To a life so cold and dark

And so

It is with a wish

That I plead to the unknown

For I am just another child

Dreaming of a home