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I am the bones of my home

By Amanda StarksPublished 2 years ago 1 min read
Photo by Laura Fuhrman on Unsplash

I am the bones

of the crackling sun

filtering through the glass

and flickering off the walls

painted with ivory streaks.

I am the bones

of the little crib

blanketed in pink

swaying to the hands

of watchers and guardians.

I am the bones

of the plush brown carpet

cushioning unsteady steps

and fierce smiles.

I am the bones

of the verdant yard

where a man's best friend

waits for a yellow bus.

I am the bones

of the large kitchen counter




I am the bones

of a noisy dinner table

occupied by familiar


and evergreens.

I am the bones

of the swaying juniper

whose berries fell

over a tiny pale rock

marking a sleeping friend.

I am the bones

of a small blue room

shared by breath


and dreams.

I am the bones of my home

built and stretched thin by time

broken by memories long since past

and forged stronger by the lessons

learned within.


About the Creator

Amanda Starks

Lover of the dark, fantastical, and heart-wrenching. Author of RE: SURGENCE, a poetry collection about mental illness, released weekly on vocal.media. Subscribe to my free newsletter at www.amandastarks.com for updates!

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