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  • Writer's pictureKirsty Taylor

Home Is Where The Heart Is?

Updated: Mar 22, 2020

As I first drive through my village,

And up my hill.

I wonder,

Why I ever left.

I eat dinner,

With people,

Not my TV.

I spend time with my neighbours cat,

Instead of wishing I had one here.

As the days go on,

I spread myself too thin.

In an attempt to see everyone,

Almost treating every visit as my last.

I get sick,

Unbelievably tired.

I feel,

I feel so much here that it scares me.

At a point in time,

When I was here I felt nothing.

As the days go on,

I miss my flat.

I miss living alone,

I miss my morning routine.

I miss the city,

I miss how close it all is.

I miss how I feel when I’m there.

As it comes to time to leave,

I have already begun missing this place.

As I get into my car,

I just sit and look at it for awhile.

The home I grew up in for eighteen years,

I never knew another home before this one.

My heart is longer fully in this home,

As my home is no longer in one place.

- Words and Photography by Kirsty Taylor

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