Feather House
Home is where the heart belong
when all the sink smells like soap
a crust of blood and dried toothpaste
a music that has no more than a singer
where it is always a mess
a hint smell of smoke
ashes down the stairway
it never felt perfect, but it is
warmth that it offers
is irreplaceable, nothing I can contain
the smell of pine and daisy
stutter of electricity
dim yellow lights
where the pillow and blanket is feather
I miss home
