When we married and went to live together,
where we lived was not home.
We were just playing house,
and our separate homes were elsewhere.
Now home is here. When did it happen?
I don't remember. The other houses
and our parents are still there,
but somewhere along the line
they stopped being home.
What makes this home?
What is home?
Home is refuge.
The place where I unstrap my armour
and relax, and know that
even thought there are a ridiculous number
of things to be fixed,
yet nothing can go wrong.
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