By Joely DeSimone ’15
Volume XXXVI, Issue 1, October 4, 2013
I’ve come to find I have many homes:
temporary ones of taped-up photos,
lasting ones in the arms of friends,
an eternal one behind my eyes
in which I rest when the others are far.
But the home I call Home
is the worn-away, rubbed-raw
stripes below the kitchen table:
twenty years of a family scooting back
after dinner, full and calm.