The place to go,
when everything seems dead to me.
The smell of the gym
and the sound of the ball
falling through the net.
The feeling that's felt
when the game is won
and the battle is done.
The dreams I dream
when my head hits the pillow
and my eyes shut,
after a day of seeing different people
and thinking different thoughts.
Awakening to the smell of fresh coffee,
and loving, gentle arms open wide
waiting to say, "good morning Em, how'd you sleep?"
Taking a ride to the country in the early morning
to smell the fresh air,
to see acres of woods and fresh cut grass, to bite into a big juicy apple
right off the tree, to listen to it crunch in my mouth
while cars fly by as the sun beams on my face.
To go home at night
knowing those loving, gentle arms will be there
waiting to greet me at the door and to ask how my day was.
To listen to the pounding of dog paws
running to the door to see who is there,
to protect a territory that is safe and filled with love,
one that will always be there with the back door wide open
waiting
When everything seems dead to me.
Those few places to go, those few people to talk to
who always seem to be there
just for me.
Always a ball to dribble
and a net to shoot it through,
always that coach, that certain person to look up to
saying "come on Emmy, dig deep...you can do it."
And always the place to go
when sweat drips off my body after leaving the court, where nothing else matters...
where security is felt
The place...
that will always be called home,
those arms and voices of loving parents, those barks of the dog
will always be one of the few
soft, fluffy blankets
My blankets of security...