Home Poem

My home is built into My bones A place where there Are no unknowns I know exactly where The floor creeks and moans And how the garden Is sprinkled with stones. My house isn’t big, Nor is it small. It’s the only home I’ve ever known. It’s the place I learned How to crawl. I know where the stains are on the carpet, I could pinpoint them on a target. And when the window creates a Beautiful sunbeam My cat will sleep in it, Making her fur coat Look like cream And when I lay awake At night listening To the furnace I think about the Earth that continues To turn us And how there are People on it who don’t Have a home… But maybe I can help change that With this poem?