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A Poem by Andrew Hawkins

Home is not a proper place
has no address, no fixed abode

It may not lay along a certain path
or at the end of any road

For each of us its different
what makes it so we cannot see

For myself I know that I'm not there
whenever you are not with me

My home exists within your hand
when it is wrapped in mine

When our bodies come together
a warm embrace, legs intertwined

Geographically speaking
home can be here, it can be there

but there is no place' feels more like home
than the pillow that we share.

© 2012 Andrew Hawkins


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Home.... definately is where the heart is....

Beautifully penned :o)

Posted 9 Years Ago


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sweet sweet words.
and poem good !

Posted 9 Years Ago



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Added on December 20, 2012
Last Updated on December 20, 2012

Author

Andrew Hawkins
Andrew Hawkins

Richibucto, New Brunswick, Canada



About
While the jury is still out about life beginning at 40 it seems, for me at least, poetry began at 40. Other than the enforced scribblings of a young child I haven't written poetry for thirtysomethi.. more..

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