Home
Home, a place where many go
To get things off their shoulders.
Home, a place where many dread
For the walls are caving in.
Some are big,
Some are small,
Some are full,
Some contain nothing at all.
Some are warm
And accept you with open arms,
Some are cold
And push you away.
There are many homes,
With many people.
A home is a home
No matter how big or how small.
Bowl
The bowl sits on the shelf,
Watching you take another bowl,
Until he is the last one there.
Now, the last bowl sits on the shelf,
All by it's lonely self.
Sand
Sand is so simple and free,
It's weight allowing it to ride the wind
To a new destination.
If I was sand, I too would be free
To jump on the wind
And ride it to wherever it sees fit,
Finding freedom in the sand.
Falling leaves
Sometimes, in life, you cannot continue.
You reach your breaking point and give up.
Then you fall.
Just like a leaf
Who can no longer continue to live.
When leaves begin to die,
They fall.
And always,
The fallen start their slow journey,
To die completely
And return to the Earth,
For the cycle to start again,
With new leaves and new people.
