what is home? {a poem}

what is home & where to find it…
I find it interesting, to say the least,
how people keep their bedrooms
in their parents home
exactly as they left
because they know
they’ll always come back

As for me,
I’m like a snail: carrying home on my back
every meaningful thing goes with me
because I never know
when I’ll be back

Seeking incessantly a place to chill out and grow old
with the fact
i can still choose anywhere to call my own

Home is forever changeable, you see
from the evergreen safety of infantdhood
to your grandmother’s cake, her jardin
or your lover’s company, indeed

The truth – and good news – is,
I can always find home
in the depths of my own
& the welcoming lands
of wherever I belong

Home is not a place
after all,
home is a feeling




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