Displaced

Alone
it's okay when your window is your own
and the covers that you hide under make you feel at home
there a smell in the carpets that you come to recognize
theres a feeling on the rainy days that your walls have come alive

Home
where your couch is or the place that you recline
where your dishes know your name and the same clock keeps your time
and your pantry, full or empty, keeps your boxes all aligned
or the places for the boxes and the spaces for your knives

Displaced
without a window and a pantry and a couch
I can't create them on my own or find them in myself
like a gypsy weary traveler I've learned to make my "home"
the cities that I pass through
the places still unknown

But deep within my heart, embedded in my mind
is the carpet walls and windows I someday will reside

the bed that I will come home too that will swallow me alive
give me a place of refuge to nap and love and hide.