Homes
seem to have a life of their own
watching goings-on
sometimes reflecting impact
of conversations that happen
congenial or conflicts
I wonder why the AC conked off
a bulb gives up
the exhaust fan moves slowly
as I pack bags for a move
to another city
to another building
another home
If they have sensed a separation
How do I let them know
The walls are not being abandoned
I will keep coming back
to spend time in harmony
with the river, the trees outside
and the walls
which hold my secrets
Creative Experiments and More 
And that’s why we call it a home… that day you cease is when you never come back.
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That’s a fresh perspective on home. Thank you, Bjorn!
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Creating memories one home to the next.
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Yes.
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The walls sense your departure. An interesting take
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Thank you so much!
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My pleasure
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Oh this is lovely ma’am ❤️ Love the fact that you keep coming back ☺️
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Thank you 🤗
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I like the title, Reena, and the opening stanza – I also think that homes seem to have a life of their own, but it’s the inhabitants and their secrets that make a building a home.
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True. Thank you, Kim!
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Awesome poem Reena! Loved it!
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Thanks!
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