When I'm asked,
where I feel at home
my place, my happy place
my yellow;
I say your arms
I know, I know
its cliche but not a lie at all,
you make time slow
you fight off my sorrow
by simply being here
only you i will follow
and at a glance i turn to see
pure love of a person
in front of me -such representation
of true beauty
a boy of whom,
belong in my poetry
