The Taste of Home

My arms rest around a waist
A column of my home.
Into the windows
The brown tinted windows.
Perfume,
The flowers of this place
Lingering on my hands after.
The walls brush
Against the skin of my shoulders.
The gate I know
I have the key
Around my neck.
I touched my lips
To the floor of this house
And I taste the taste
Of where I know my heart
Will rest.

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