A Home is a Place

A poem I wrote when you told me you wanted to go home

A home is a place

The only place your body wants to be

after a long day at work.

When you get lost and

it’s the first place you find yourself start to wander

But as you grow older

Sometimes places aren’t as comforting

Sometimes you need to realize a home is a place in someone’s heart.

Where you’re more comfortable

feeling their pulse when you grip their hand

than being in your own “home.”

Where you feel more comfortable

crying after a long day, in their arms

than in your own “bed.”

Where you’re more comfortable

tasting their lips

than eating a home-cooked “meal” that’s sitting on the dining room table.

Where you’re finally okay with getting lost

because you know it’s easier to find a person

than a “home”

Where you’re happiest

when you realize: sometimes a home isn’t a place anymore,

it’s a person.