I try to think of where I'm most at home,
but I don't know you,
is all in can come up with.
I have a pillow and a bed,
but where I want to rest my head
is on your bosom keeping time with your breath.
But I don't know you,
what you look like,
or even where you are.
I guess that means I don't have a home,
but if I ever do know you
I bet I'll know it in your eyes
the only eyes I pray will sympathize
the only eyes that feel like home.
YOU ARE READING
Thresheld
PoetryMy life is a series of thresholds that I overcome through poetry. Love, loss, pain, regret, humor, irony, word play, and even sarcasm are as much apart of my life as they are central to my poems here. I am Thresheld. UPDATE: It's been quite a few ye...
