Not a person, not a cling of skin of bones,
Not an object, with bliss of rock and stone,
But a feeling of essence, a presence so clinging,
Attached to my soul and stuck to my mind,
Written on my heart, a million and trillion more times.
A single blow will not erase it from my heart,
It's mine and will always be,
The place I call home.
©ennajode21
E