Poems From A Thought-Filled Girl

It's Good To Be Home

I walk to the old, brick building
Wearing my mud-stained Converse
My eyes to the ground
Staring at the orange tiles
Of the dilapidated floor.

I walk down
Into our musty quarters
And enter the room
Filled with flickering lights
And screaming students

I sit down
In my plastic chair
At my white table
And throw my binder down

As I sit there
With my head on the table
I feel a hand
On my shoulder

I meet your blue eyes
With mine
And you give me a rare smile
You save for me

Soon, I find myself in your arms
As others gawk
As I cry
For it is good
To be home.

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A/N: This is dedicated to one of my best friends. I've known him almost my whole life, and he's been a great friend to me. Thank you so much for always being there for me with your rare, big bear hugs that you seem to save for me.

(He's, like, three inches taller than me, and sorta skinny, so it makes him super huggable 😉)