My Dwelling

6 1 2
                                        

Your voice is like
A rainy Sunday afternoon
Sitting in the doorway
Listening to the pitter-patter attune
Quite cozy and comfortable
With a mug containing a hot drink
The steam gingerly caressing your lips
And all I can positively think
Is that I'm home

Your embrace is like
Snuggling next to a fire
When the sun is hidden
With a fierce burning desire
Tucked away into my heart
Lies like the coals dark aglow
And they illumine those inferno eyes
And all that I unconditionally know
Is that I'm home

Your touch is like
An ice cream cone on a blistering day
Licking around the frosty tip
So simple I yearn for it to stay
It melts sweetly into those hands
That tend to interlock with mine slow
A light squeeze for reassurance
And all that I unequivocally know
Is that I'm home

Your kiss is like
Booming fireworks on New Years
The rumble quite pleasing to feel
A bold way to remove my fears
So eccentric and colorful
Each blasting firework show
With your breath giving me life
And this I indubitably know
Is that I'm home

Your love is like
A place I know well
A comfort and deep care
A residing home where I dwell

Simply: Third Collection of PoetryWhere stories live. Discover now