I Am Home

Gone are the days 

I was lost in the woods.

Here, 

I am me

Without having to worry

If the moon is full

And packs would attack me 

out of lunacy.

Here,

I am at peace

To gaze at the deep purple sky above

While the stars go scarce or array.

Here,

I am loved 

Like how my sour cream smelling Pillow-Willy 

Have embraced me since infancy.

Here,

in your arms,

I can be a baby, crazy, 

witch, bitch,

fatso, cold,

broke, old, 

and not sorry.. . . .

. . . For baby

You’re my home. . . .

. . . and your arms

are forever 

my sanctuary.