Today I will ask no more of you
The wind and leaves and gritty streets
Have pushed me back inside my home
It is where I guess I belong
Inside a shoebox, with a view
Of pretty, bouncing light

Late afternoon sun pours on my bed; I absorb its light
And words flow through me, inspired by a simple view
And I used to not believe that here is where I belong
So what defines a home?
Never mind the names of all the streets
Is it gathered and bundled around you?

I have wondered for so long what it is that connects me to you
As I sit, drenched in flowering light
Within four walls with a little, square view
And to believe that I am just where I belong
In such a place I thought I could ignore was my home
Yet here I am, finally realizing familiar streets

As I ponder less restless, more relaxed streets
I forget for a second about you
It’s hard to do, especially with poetry in my face (this light)
Even with blinds and curtains obstructing my view
I can see in this universe, my place, a space where I belong
And you are out there past the trees creating your own home

In people, in places, in hearts, in faces, a home
To go to, to flee to, down many different streets
I don’t feel safe to say that you
Will find a true light
A beacon to follow when the days grow hollow and the view
That you gaze upon is not at all where you belong

I’ll spend some time in this room and know I belong
And you would too, if you could visualize the roots of home
Not just feel them, but see them as you see the streets
But sitting alone here I can’t escape thoughts of you
And think of you beside me, bathed in golden light
It makes all this beautiful; it’s such a lovely view

And so you and home I find connected
Like veins, like roots, like streets, to belong
To something more than fickle light and a pretty view