H: Homeless

I find you

in the tiniest things:

that little box

which has a little bottle

of your aftershave.


I search you

at the oddest places:

that pine tree

on the hill path that winds,

turns into the clouds


I see you

in the largest spaces:

that laughing moonlit sky

with one lone stray star

giving it company


I tell you

the strangest dreams:

that dark brooding fear

at the very bottom

of my frightened heart


I hear you

in the saddest songs:

that lament to the evening

as the mourning dove

repairs to its nest.


You are my home

where I return all the time.

But when they say you’re dead, I’m wordless.

The light of naked truth

renders me homeless.

3 Comments Add yours

  1. randommusings29 says:

    Brilliantly done, so moving and very relatable

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Annette says:

    Amazing! Now following!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Susan Scott says:

    a powerful poem thank you. Just stopping by randomly from the A-Z and I’m glad I did.

    Liked by 1 person

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