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Contributor: Lyla Sommersby

- -
No matter how many nights
I wake from dreams
of that old house

No matter how many times
I lift the broken bricks
rebuild it with bare hands

No matter how many mornings
I rise from the sand
of golden days long past

(to wake in your arms)

I can always say honestly, my dear
no home, real or imagined
would really be a home
without you
to wake up next to.

- - -
I am a student in Miami, Florida. Painting is my other love. My first book, Sketches of Someone, is available through Thunderune Publishing.


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