This Home is not a House

In which we explore the difference between home and house.

Light dances a graceful ballet on irises

Leaping off of its weightless tip-toes.

Vibrations ripple through the air

Whose pattern can be associated with soft laughter,

 

And somewhere in the middle of nowhere

There is a voice that goes unheard by many,

But tenderly cherished by the few

That value the words carried by it.

 

Just behind a cage of bones,

the heart filled with red life thump-thumps a devoted beat

and races and slows and endures to keep the infinite tempos of

 

love.