You are not the walls of my empty room
Nor the comfort of my blanket when I'm cold
Not the bed where I cry and sleep at night
Nor the brightness when I turn on the light

I have seen you in all the things I love and I don't
But all I ever wanted was for you to call me home
You are a collection of all the great things unseen
A familiar warmth, a place, a longing, a feeling.