Falling Home

As I look around me, I can feel time change

but the rustling leaves remind me I’m not home.

Where am I home?

Limbs swaying in the breeze

they comfort me silently,

as the crisp smell of autumn nips at my nose.

Am I home?

Though how can I know?

tinkering notes leak,

through my ear,

from the phone,

telling me all I need to know

I am home.

Keaton Henson.

I am home.

with the breeze,

I am home.

and my words, as they flow from me

I am home.

Originally Published on Medium

Marketing Student – Comfort-obsessed, plant-loving mess. Always trying. Continually coming to be.

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