Drained and wearied
I walked back alone
And asked myself on the way
What is home?

Home is a cup of tea
Maybe drops of dew
Very few
I know
But what can I say
As it sways
The curtains
Along with chimes
The ones I bought for few dimes
From a shop
By the road
That looks like a shore
When I am alone
And out of sugar
And my eyes slitty
Oh, what a pity
But hey
It’s not that bad
Because I have honey and milk⁠⁠⁠⁠
And a teaspoon of love
That I saved
From that night
When you came home a little too soon
From a trip
That ended before the noon

But could my home be
Among the freckles on your cheek?
By the mole on your shoulder?
On tip of your nose?
Or in the letters wrapped in a folder?

I am not quite sure
I have no clue
Home feels a lot like you.

Submit a comment