Monday, 31 March 2014


What is home to you?
Or you?
Is it the four walls you return to each night?
Or the edge of that cliff where you sit for hours 
watching the sky change its color
Or is it your dreams?
where you get away from the truth of reality
Is it your school?
where you return to every now and then if only to watch
the kids and the commotion
or perhaps the familiarity of the peeling paint of the classroom walls
Is it that old house where you once lived?
The one with teak wood doors, and French windows that went all the way down
or is it the park where you fell and fell again 
only to break into peals of laughter in the next second

Is it the movies you spend hours watching?
The happy or the sappy, the teenage romance and the political drama
Is it the book you picked up from the second hand bookstore?
The one you have read around 18 and a half times since
Is it the song of your favourite band? 
The one which talks of love and hate
Or is the wine you kiss with your lips before you crash into your pillow.
Must be the characters of your favourite tv shows.
The ones who are just like you or ones you want to be like.

Home? Is it your pet, the bundle of joy that leaps at you 
each time you walk through the door  
Or is it your best friend who hugs you tight every time your heart aches
Must be your mother, she listens so intently to everything you share
Or the lover in whose arms time just passes you by
Must be the neighbor next door who lends you his books
and sometimes hears you read them on his perch

Home is squishy happiness, home is the melancholic pain
Home is the outcome of years of comfort 
Or the stranger's pat in the time of need
Home is being immersed in the sea of the world 
and yet staying afloat to find yourself
For me Home, is the sound of your voice,
the husk at the end of the line. 
It is the poetry I begin to write but becomes a letter to you
Home is the warmth of your arms 
that reaches me from miles away
Its the sound of your laughter
Its the smell of your shirt that I sleep in
Its the gasp of air I fight for 
Each time you say "I love you"

Because home is you.


  1. Hey awesome lines :) :)

    really Home is what makes you "YOU"

  2. Home is how we define it. For every person, its meaning is different. :)
    Nice post!

    Keep blogging!

    Ever get time, then do visit my place (my blog):

  3. Such a light-heartedly amazing poem. :)

    I've moved around a LOT. So, I've learned not to describe home in terms of the building, architecture or location. For me, home is where my family is :)

    Oh and, I've changed my blog's URL to