With Me, It's Home.

I want to see you smile, whoever you are.

I want to see your face lit up, your soul sparks behind your eyes.

I want to see your tension released, your stress melts away.

Because you know, with me it's home.

I want to smell your scent, whoever you are.

I want you lost in my hugs and embraces, your warm body next to mine.

I want you to sleep your soundest sleep, in a blissful dream.

Because you know, with me it's home.

I want to make you laugh, whoever you are.

I want to hear you softly iterate what you love and appreciate in life.

I want to see the unspoken hope grow in your heart.

Because you know, with me it's home.

I don't want to make you sad, whoever you are.

Yet it will happen, sharp as knives made from ice and twice as painful.

A whirlwind of emotion, the flowing tears and open wounds.

And you'll look at me and ask if this is really home.

Home won't always be comfortable or perfect.

It'll have broken pipes or faulty roof, or creaky floorboard that drives you crazy.

But it's a place where you know you will be safe and accepted.

So look at me as I say this: "Welcome home."

Welcome home, unknown stranger.

Weary of life, tired of world, bend and broken and scared and angry.

Looking for a soft bed and a warm fire to rest, a shelter from the world.

The door is always open, come find your home.