Go home

Jet black eyes, full lips,
cozy hugs, rushed passion,
wet hair that smells of
'berry blast' shampoo.
Is this what home feels like?
 
Watching a lizard
sneak up
behind an indifferent moth
under the allure of an LED lamp.
Is this what home feels like?
 
Grandfather's last breath
still lingering in the air,
two decades
after his passing.
Is this what home feels like?
 
In the darkest days, the skin
punctured by a thousand wounds,
healed by the warm, flowing music
within the walls.
Is this what home feels like?
 
Standing on the kerb,
waiting for the morning rush to pass,
waving at children in a school bus,
a stray sniffing at my pyjamas.
Is this what home feels like?
 
Mutton bone broth, steamed rice,
singing in the shower,
the usual silence,
the occasional small talk.
Is this what home feels like?