home
there are things that feels like home
the view of that same tree you grew up with
that same breakfast you took in one hot morning
even the crampy bed you slept in.
home is where you feel love the most
you relive those moments over and over again
and if you are lucky enough, you can go back to it given a chance
once a year?
twice?
how can you be so lucky if you can do it everyday.
home..
i call it home even with a memory of struggling to find food in the table,
that dripping roof during the storm,
that old clothes from your auntie that you now wear,
home..
how much time do we have to have that home?
one last hug,
one last kiss,
one last meal before my flight..
what can we do to have that extra seconds to hold your hands?
to feel your warmth..
to hold you long enough to map the skin of your hands.
to see you smile until i can draw them.
how did we ever end up here?
where our time is so limited…
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