when I think of home

There was a time, I could have said I have no home – my parents own one and that’s a place I would be welcome always. I live is a cozy room with one of the sweetest soul I know and that’s a place I forever want to return each day – to the same bed , books , that make shift kitchen , those welcome smiles of my friend and our shared space. I feel grounded when am in there – just myself. The honest , open and enlightened. But love has gone some where else. There is a place I have started feeling homely even when I have never been there. A small bed facing the tv , a computer and book rack nearby , a huge window that opens to a view of a lovely tree that’s home to many birds. pets running around the bed in circles , trying to reach me as smell of tea and fresh cookies fill the air. That’s a home I dream of. That’s the home I want. To paint the walls with our smiles and to fill it with colors of our togetherness. Where each season is welcomed alike and celebrated with music and words.

That’s a home I want for myself.
That’s a heaven I will make my own.

Some day , I hope.

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