"It doesn't have certain conditions you have to follow. it doesn't have an ascribed description and that's it. Could be a place, a person, a job, perhaps a paper on which your words flow nonstop. One could take years to find it, one could die without finding that safe heaven."
What's home, you ask me?
It's not just a front yard,
four walls
and
You're settled.
It's where you're mask-free
Where your secrets are hostages of every corner
Never to be out;
For trust ties them miles deep.
Where the walls echo with your laughter
Memories hard to collect;
For they're as much as a perpetual sea.
What's home you ask me?
It's where you can truly be,
Not just a noun ,
Not just a door with its key
and you have it.
Home?
It's so much more.
_______________
FOTD:
I am dying.
YOU ARE READING
Nirvana
PoetryShe sets the ink free, let the pen crawls, and the words flow like a sea. Again, she's lost in her nirvana. #175 in Poetry [28/2/18] #8 in Overthinking #3 in Musings #18 in thinking (out of 1K+) #95 in words (out of 1K+) #373 in poems (out of...
