A house is just a house,
Home is a feeling.
These aren't my floors,
My walls,
Or ceiling.
This isn't my door,
My window
Or bed
Yet I know that I've been here before
I can see the rooms layout,
It's in my head
It's scary at first
Later it gets better
Then sometimes it gets hard again
This isn't the bedroom in which I grew up in
or the kitchen where I learned to cook,
I wasn't potty trained in that bathroom
the laundry room doesn't hold a single school book
This isn't my house,
It drives my to tears,
I am scared and lost it seems
But If I close my eyes very tight,
I can see my old room again
And that comforting feeling comes rushing in
then the bed moves across from me and I am reminded why I am here
in the first place
The sinking feeling goes away
He wraps me up in his arms
He wipes the tears off my face
It's scary at first,
Later is gets better,
Then sometimes it gets hard again
But no matter how far I roam,
Or whichever house I am in
No one city, state or country is home
For my home will forever be him.
YOU ARE READING
Poems of a Lost Girl
PuisiA collection of poems written on my free time, they are mostly all free-style so stanzas and patterns may not always add up exactly but I assure you it staggers the quality hardly at best. I believe a poem can tell you a lot about a person, their i...
