I think people
need to rethink
the metaphor
they incorporate
with home
Home is a friend,
a shelter through
a storm and a storm
if it has sheltered
enough
YOU ARE READING
Albeit flawed,
PoezjaI was basking under the sun-the waves muffle the sound of my breathing; and I bury myself with cautionary confidence in the sand and with it the memory of your four faces. How can something lethal be life-restorative?
