When I feel my skin
All firm and fresh
Able to brave the sun and wind
Is in my home.
My home is my solitude.
So it is any land
Time or space.
My home is on a crowded street
As long as I drink my coffee alone
My home is a quiet pond
As long as no one is along.
I like my thoughts
Quiet in my head.
No need to speak.
Relate
Overthink.
My home could be a wheat field.
A cafe in Milan.
What matters is if it is my home
No one comes along.
You are speaking my truth, fellow introvert!
Like this poem. It fits me.