“Home is where people understand you,”
you said that once so long ago
when no one wished to believe
you, when you had nowhere
to go. And though those
days are gone, you’re
still alone,
still not
home.
“Home is where people understand you,”
you said that once so long ago
when no one wished to believe
you, when you had nowhere
to go. And though those
days are gone, you’re
still alone,
still not
home.
Then perhaps he lives is a house not a home. May I recommend reading Bachelard’s Poetics of Space? It’s an entire book about the said topic 🙂