Home is not a place for me.
It does not have a street address, or a PO box.
Home sometimes skips town without warning
but when it comes back unexpectedly,
in the eyes of the boy who sleeps beside me
or within the letters of this poem,
it leaves me feeling whole again
and every single time, I am surprised that I still
know what that feels like.





Indya Shaw resides in Melbourne, Australia, with her small family and an ever-growing book collection. As an only child, Indya spent the majority of her time reading novels and poetry, and she dreams of being able to publish a book of her own writing one day. You can find the rest of her work on her blog poetnextdoor.tumblr.com.

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