There's a Place I Call Home

Where the fragrance of these few plants sway through the kitchen window and the sunlight from the eastern corner falls on every inanimate object. Perhaps home to me is nothing but a lullaby that puts me to sleep, or it’s where my sorrows go hide under those pillow covers. Sometimes I feel these cobwebs on the ceiling and the creases on the walls are smiling at me. Sometimes I search so hard for words to interpret this unspoken bond I feel for this place. But in the end I’m left with nothing. No matter where I go, I always end up here. If someday I’m gone, I hope the person who takes this place sees it through my eyes.