Me in the early morning watching the morning fog at a place called: Pond Cove, Briar Island, NS

And when the sun fell, the fog brewed
The visibility dissipated
My eyes they strained
Bloodshot reeling in disdain for what the night had brought
For what I’ve become
I wished for the dawn
I dreamed of tomorrow
But we were still in the moment
My heart grew too fond
Longing for home,
I questioned if it existed
I wondered if it was you
It was then the thoughts came clear
Shining bright in and through
Home is not within you
Home, it is nomadic and obsolete
A notion for when the sleeping is sound
And the ground is soft
A space where the heart feels safe
Where your body can fall cozily with a cup of warm brew
Tea or coffee
Yours to choose
A book, a screen, a furry creature
Some blankets and a bed, or a floor,
Or maybe home might be nothing at all


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