SUNFLOWER BABY

xxvi. home

sometimes,
i sit in bed,
late at night,
when it seems i am
the only one awake
in the whole world,
and i think about things

last night
or this morning,
whichever you prefer
i sat up in my bed,
and i knew that i
was at my house,
i was in my bed
but suddenly,
i wasn't home

so,
i tried to think
of where my home
might be

underneath
willow trees
or surrounded
by sunflowers
very pretty, yes,
but not home

my grandparents'
house, or
my father's
arms,
very safe, yes,
but not home

my first kiss,
with a loud boy
named Nick,
or my last one,
with the sweetest boy
i ever knew
both gentle, yes,
but not home

and death,
my old friend,
my enemy,
the one who has,
at times,
beckoned me,
even death is not
home

and i realized that
maybe, maybe,
my home simply
is yet to exist
perhaps i'll find it
tomorrow,
or the next day,
or in a dozen years

and isn't that
enough reason
to stick around?
to wait to find out?
to find out where will be
my home