As a traveler, I roam, but my open front door, wooden flower wreath is welcome relief. Home is heartbeat, the anchor underneath. Resented, then reconsidered. I need some sense of sameness to be centered. Familiar shadow through window, the strange scent of the familiar, unique imprint on feather pillow, family members are the pillars that call me home. © 2022 | K.Hartless
This piece was prepared for Flashback Track Friday #76 hosted by Mr. Bump. Join us in sharing songs, artwork, and poetry inspired by home, and be sure to tune in every Friday to songshinesounds for a new flashback and invitation.