Going Home

Going Home

Home is where the water tastes sweetest
Where the pillow, however thin,
Holds rest
Where the mind can finally breathe
And the heart slow down to think
Where the eyes can drink the
Peaceful dark, and
No matter how old in the day
Where the child, quietly hiding and seeking in the noise of work
Can come out to play
Home is where the brow
unfurrows
Where the silence grows
to crescendo
And washes over, again and again
Like a tidal wave trapped
In a mason jar
Some people build a house over it
Some find it in searching, wandering
Near and far
And I might not hang my hat in mine
-But it’s fine
My home is
wherever you are

©CM
21.05.2015

Rehashing an old ending. 🙂

My, my, this blog is getting really quiet. What is everyone up to?

Love and light,
Cookie ❤