The creaky top step,
The bleached white splotch
On my favorite blue wall,
Screeching tires and foggy mornings.
Home.

Piano keys fumbling around my fingers,
Sighs of summer trickle through the air,
The rhythm pulsing within tapping fingers,
Warm blankets and heavy eyes.
Home.

Life spilling out of unnoticed words,
Sitting in open-too-wide, unnoticed books.
Pavement lacking fresh, white paint,
Once still swings and endless starry nights.
Home.

Frayed shoelaces and dusty camera lenses,
Fireflies and cloudless, black skies.
Sun rays lapping against grass blades,
Sheet music humming a silent melody.
Home.

The open front door, unveiling too much.
Taxi cabs and good-bye waves.
Glaring city lights clash with the
incessant honking.
Weak smiles crack into a thousand pieces.
I wish I were home.