December 3, 2021
Home is not a place, it's a feeling.
It's slipping my hands into yours,
Naturally as we walk side-by-side,
It's absentmindedly rustling your hair,
Or pinching your shoulders,
Leaning into you or embracing you from behind.
It's saying everything through a smile,
A shared glance, without really saying anything,
It's laying on your tummy and rolling around,
Rubbing our noses together,
It's chasing each other around for fun,
You always letting me win because I'm your daughter,
Or maybe you wanted an excuse to pick me up
And spin me around, your champion—
Home is not knowing where to turn to,
But our feet carry us there anyways,
It's waking up crying from a dream,
And finding my way to you.
It's finding a place in your arms,
And you're welcome in mine too.
Home is love, home is comfort,
Home is cuddling close on a windy bridge overlooking the sea,
Because we're both cold, wearing coats that
Still aren't warm enough because
We didn't bother to check the weather.
Home is feeling safe with you, my family,
No matter where any of us are,
Home is physical, but it's not a place—
It's a feeling, and
I miss it, I miss home.
YOU ARE READING
A Testament to When I Loved You
ŞiirA collection of poetry following the feelings of someone falling in love for the first time, although never quite making it anywhere, from the beginning to the end. Or, a testament to when I loved you without really understanding you. ----
