Home might be where you grew up
Where your kin are still
Rumbling along the tracks of their patterns
Where everything seems like sepia
And the edges are clearly defined

But ‘not-home’ has brought you
More joy than you could embrace
More colours than you could describe
More people than you could write about
Or connect with in one l ifetime

And once you leave
You try to preserve what home means
Even as home changes
Faces crinkle, children grow
People change into other people
You don’ t recognise
The loop goes on without you in it

You find yourself drawn in
But still on the outside
Like sitting in the driveway
After braving traffic

You hand weighing your keys in your pocket
Debating whether or not
You should open the noise

You know that nothing stays the same
Nothing should
You haven’t

But part of you wishes they would
And you fear that home
Won’t l ike who you’ve grown into

That a rose
Among dahlias
Will be hated for her thorns
And scorned for her scarlet
Even though she knows
she is loved by so many

Does a songbird think of home
As where her wings were clipped?
Where every day was the same
Until the cage door slipped?

Is home where you start,
Or is home where you are right now?
Maybe it’s just whatever you decide it is

Maybe it’s okay to decide
That the keys are too heavy this time
And keep them in your pocket