MICHAEL DYER
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​A LUMBERING SOUL
​BUT TRYING TO FLY

Home. 

10/29/2012

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You are the smell of home
You are the embrace of my bed
You're two dogs to welcome me at my door

You are a green door
A red wall
And a blue house

You are home to me
You are a bench in the back yard
Eucalyptus plants
Green grass for most of the summer
Spotty for others

You are two maps
A blue room
And a black bookshelf 

You're a rug that gets caught under the door
You are home 
I love Your smell 
Your touch

The hiding spots only I know
The top shelf of the closet 
Under the bed with closed sides

You are the crawl space which holds
The boxes of my memories and past 

You are a tear soaked pillow
A room full of screams 
A table full of laughter
And walls which saw me at my worst
And still held the roof over my head

You are the tree in the back
The one I always tried to summit
In You are my initials poorly carved all throughout 
I've marked my name down on You
We have a history 
And I love it

You are the big blue couch 
You are tennis in the garage
And roof ball in the back
Golf in the yard
And extreme croquet in the summer

You've never stopped holding me
You've always welcomed me in
You are home
You are home   
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