There is a place;
An open ledge.

There is a place.
May be big,
may be small.
maybe vast as the ocean walls.
or as minuscule as a pupil, barely the size of a fig.

There is a place.
a garden perhaps?
Teeming of vines,
of red tulips and white.
maybe a forest, filled with the great oak tees,
and the sparrows and robins,
and stones, rocks,
and floating leaves, fading from amber to green.

There is a place.
a sweet, sweet place.
With a kitchen, barely wide enough.
With four walls,
fit for maybe two.
there is a place,
with a blue clothed couch,
and white, gossamer curtains,
and the ceilings
bright with warm incadecent bulbs.
there is a place,
a book pile stacked against one another,
over there in the corner.

there is a place.
A locked door;

there is a place.
But maybe it isn't a place.

But maybe its composed of flesh. And shattering,
clattering teeth,
and dangling, cold, freezing bones,
and a precarious smile,
with broken, shattered eyes.
Rotten words,
a withering glint of pride,

There is a place.
But maybe it isn't place.
maybe its a person.
maybe its you.

Maybe your the place I come home to.

There is a place;
I think i'll sit here.