Sometimes you’re not home to people.
You’re not where they’ll find the smell
Of bread, fresh out of the oven, welcoming them.
You’re not the warm bed that beckons them
On a cold wintery night.
You’re not this and more.
Because, you are the wilderness,
Where all things wild grow,
Where the brave will venture out to seek you,
Where the urge to be with you will be so
Strong they can’t resist.
Sometimes, you’re not home to people,
And that is really okay,
Because, you are an adventure so glorious
No four walls can hold.
yesnobutwhy 