My home is more than a building,
more than just wood floors and blue siding.
No, my home has a feeling, feelings.
Multiple.
It has multiple voices, melodies, that float beyond the cracked walls
and past the brick steps.
My home has faces, unique, different faces that are seen on my own.
Eyes that are able to be seen in mine,
Lips that are able to speak in similarities,
Laughs that are able to giggle at the in-sync breaths for air.
My home is more than a building,
more than just wood cabinets and tan couches.
My home has two basements that are minutes apart yet mentally together.
My home has two different identities, yet the same personality.
It has fairy lights and movies and will always have a type of baked pastry
and a life-sized reminder of an amazing memory.
My home is more than a building,
more than just the blue-tan chairs and the refrigerator with pictures.
My home has mountains and beaches that are seen about yearly yet wanted daily.
My home has arms and legs that wrap themselves around me as if I were about to ascend away.
It has metals and mats and the same arguments that occur daily when the weather is warm yet means nothing when the rest of the year is played out.
My home is more than a building.
My home is wherever and whoever I want it to be.
