'The Home Of Me'

Treacherous path ahead, tediously taking up time,

as I thirst, to flourish; bloom like the spring.

But to branch, I must bide,

so for now i'm biding time,

til my inferences of what is home, becomes a whole.

I disentangle from the lattice that once encouraged me to grow,

suffocated among its grip.

I go limp.

No easy clutches within my path,

to lead me to sun-soaked energy.

Each concrete step I land on, wrong.

This box of echoing silence, where pearly photographs begin to scream.

These drowning droplets eat away at my roots, starving me of a core,

So I stand still.

And the more that I vegetate, staring at white or glass ceilings of mother nature,

the more it floods.

Thundering shudders on the ground beneath my feet.

beats off sync,

faint, floor upon my chest.

...But nature has its ways, and nature's whispered "time",

so I stole patience from the silence that stubbornly watched.

Behold a shimmer of light travelling west,

glimmers of heat that point beyond, where I scurry in desperate hope.

Alas, the music returns among a new passage,

a boulevard where adults stand tall.

A hand-filled grip, pulls me to my feet;

alone I wiggle, whistle and wonder.

I embrace in the warmth of content, as my roots begin to grip,

welcome to my house, welcome to the home of me.

CO