I feel like writing poetry,
but I don't know where to begin.
So I'll let myself ramble,
and see which thoughts win.

I'm thinking lots about "love",
and what that word means to me.
I'm thinking lots about Him,
and the other He.

And thinking of Them.
Is their "love" still there?
I don't know,
but I'm glad they don't have to go anywhere.

I'm thinking about homes,
and how lucky I am.
The others aren't so lucky,
so I try to lend a hand.