H O M E
Home is not a place, but rather an emotion
it is the feeling of warmth and safety
it is comfort on the most intimate level, complete and utter devotion
it is the sacred container that knows no frontiers
it holds all my laughter and bliss
it also holds all of my tears and fears
H O M E
Home is not a place, but rather a sense
it is the sound of his heartbeat at night and a whistling tea kettle in the morning
it is the aroma of herbs, flowers, and incense
it is color golden hour paints everything in sight and the hue the moon drops at night
It is the feeling of the ground under my dancing feet and the breeze across my skin when I relax in a rocking chair or a swing
H O M E
it is knowing that I am held is every way
it is the space where my full expression comes out to play
About the Creator
Melancholic Mama
I no longer know who I am, but I do know what I am
A mother and a wife
A woman lost in the sea of life
I don't know if I will ever be a who again, or if I am doomed to live the rest of my days as a mere what
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