But somewhere in the house. It's warm and sweet
Like cocoa on a desperate winter day
Watched from inside, with proper winter cheer
That brightens up what once was dimly gray.
I feel you from the tiptoes of my feet
Into the edges of my bangs; I sense
That you exist nearby. It comforts me.
Thank you for being you, and for existing;
Not thanks as in a hope for recompense
Or as a covert way to keep insisting
That this is somewhere that you have to be,
But thanks because your presence brings me balm
When nothing else is comfortable or calm.
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