Home

 

The faces are just like any other faces

At least – that’s what I tell myself

But they are unfamiliar, alien to me

Or maybe

I’m the alien.

                                                          How did I get here?

 

I watch the leaves fall

From trees I know the names of

But they aren’t the same leaves

I used to see

In my old back yard.                        

                                                          Then I realized…

 

Home isn’t just a place

It isn’t just a building

Nor is it the people who live there

Or the belongings inside,

Home is all of that.                          

                                                          And none of that.

 

It is how you feel when you are there

And what you feel when you leave.