You are my 11:11 wishes
Every shooting star
And dandelion seed.
Someone must have heard
My feverent prayers
What glittering mold did you come from
To be sculpted so well to me?
Eyes bluer than the ocean
That I have always felt flowing
In my heart, my veins
Hair black like the pitch night
That holds the stars I count
Hands, hands that radiate kindness
Seeping peace as they trace my spine
It is not fireworks when you hold me
It is the cackle of a wood fire
The familiar weight of a favourite book
The comfort of a well-worn mattress
When you hold me
I am home