I got home last night somehow
I know because I woke up in my bed
Went to the kitchen and made my coffee
Shoes placed neatly by the door
Someone must have brought me
The sun in the blinds is more than I want
Too much for my tender eyes
Who, last I knew, were awake in the darkness
Then asleep in the same
Now the day seems to hold something so equally tender
And I just don’t know if I can care for something like that
I drink coffee, I don’t eat
Cold bathroom tile on my feet
Warm kitchen wood floor next
No grass, although I feel my soles longing to know if it’s full of dew of or frost today as we rest in peculiar fashion upon the bridge of two seasons
Maybe my chair will feel like home
Or it could drop me
Maybe my loneliness stayed in the night where I left all memory of yesterday
And this is just an echo
Maybe I’ve always been fine
Maybe home would feel different if it was really mine
Perhaps my questioning only gets me into trouble and today I should stay here and focus solely on the life that feels more like home than where my feet fall
I organize the shoes
Create a pile again
They are clean,
The bottoms are white.
I open the blinds.
The grass it wet, it rained last night.
Who carried me?