Home

Home...

Home is not a proper place
has no address, no fixed abode

It may not lay along a certain path
or at the end of any road

For each of us its different
what makes it so we cannot see

For myself I know that I'm not there
whenever you are not with me

My home exists within your hand
when it is wrapped in mine

When our bodies come together
a warm embrace, legs intertwined

Geographically speaking
home can be here, it can be there

but there is no place' feels more like home
than the pillow that we share.

Reviews

[Yellow Butterfly]

Home.... definately is where the heart is....

Beautifully penned :o)

[@]

sweet sweet words.
and poem good !