I live in a house
that is not a home
and never will be
my mother tries to understand why
why do you not feel at home?
what did we do wrong?
well to tell you the truth

the walls feel confining
but it was not the architects mistake

the rooms seemed unloved
unlived in
but not because you didn't
love me

the floor seems to ache like my bones
but that isn't because the home is old

I feel uncomfortable in this house
you tried so hard to make a home
because to me
home is where your heart lies
and my heart roams
free

my home is the trees
and the sun
the cool breeze
the warm soft dirt
the sun baked raspberries
and chewed up sweet peas

my home is the
tears that have fallen
the lessons that were learned
(repeatedly)
the smiles that we have shared
laughs and snorts
love and hate

my home is the world
and this house is indeed
a part of the earth
but my dearest mother
it will never be my home.