When I think of home, I think of
the slight upturn of your lips
when I part them like flower petals
and meld them with my own.

When I think of home, I think of
the rolling hills that form
on your knuckles when you
clasp my shaking hand in yours.

When I think of home, I think of
how your fingers are like breezes,
wiping my tears away, and
whispering 'I love you's
to undeserving ears.