Coming Home

Let this heart I wear

on my sleeve

draw all of its letters in the sand…

not just the ones I think

you

will like me for.

And in that sand, let there be

scribbles of the past, the present,

and the future;

a million perfect letters

tumbling all about my day

teaching me,

quite slowly,

just who it is I am meant to be.

I am no longer searching

for anything, or anyone.

Somehow

I just know.

I’ve found the thing

I never knew I needed to find.

A tiny home at the edge of my sleeve.