Home
There is a house built out of hope.
Bruises and cuts made from holding on tight to the rope
where life happens to tug one way and we are trying the other but seems to be slipping from our hands like soap
And although we tried our hardest we fell down the slope
But learned to live.
The house years later still stands, filled with what could have been and what is not
where our memories of each other is blurry but forgot
I dreamed about this a lot
When will this house be worthy? will it be when I’m 30 or would yesterday be too early?
I’m yearning for our “we will meet again” encounter but starting to worry
please hurry
I don’t know how much more I can keep going
where does it stop ?
when will there be an end to this journey?
And everything suddenly stops
our hands now dirty and the rope is cut
no more pulling or tugging
we are all we got.
And it suddenly clicked
this house is no house but a home
where you are welcomed and cherished
welcome home
thank you for not forgetting
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