HOME

 I don't know you.

I don't know what angers you.

What pleases you.

What mortifies you.

What soothes you after you've had a bad day.

And yet, the very thought of you feels like home.

I'm bewildered by the patience sitting still in me. 

The peace, the patience and the certainty triggered by the mere thought of you.

How I already know, 'home' is me buried in your arms.

Home is you gently stroking my face when you talk to me.

Home is me waking up earlier than you just to marvel at the sight of you sleeping soundlessly.

Home is us,  picture perfect; braving the storms that life will most certainly throw our way.

I don't know you; but the dreams I have make me feel like I've known you a lifetime.